


a study in flannel

by queenofmoondoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Codependency, Crack Treated Seriously, Dean in Denial, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Unreliable Narrator, this entire fic is just a satirical character analysis of dean, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofmoondoor/pseuds/queenofmoondoor
Summary: Sam's on a business trip and he hasn't been home in a few days. Five days to be exact. He hasn't been back in five days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie, writing this actually killed me. It took me three tries to get a working plot, and then I slaved over this every night for two months. I've never written anything this long before, and I didn't think it would be this hard. 
> 
> Special thanks to my artist/best friend, [alwayspraisethemockingjay](alwayspraisethemockingjay.tumblr.com) who made me some awesome [art](http://alwayspraisethemockingjay.tumblr.com/post/152924194094/artwork-for-queenofrnoondoor-fic-a-study-inart) and gave me a ton of support. I couldn't have done this without her.

Dean is panicking.

And by panicking, he does not mean the _oh no I’m late for work_ kind of panicking, he means the full blown _this is the worst thing to ever happen to me_ kind of panicking.

It had all started about two weeks ago, when Sam had been over for a visit. 

“Dean,” Sam had sighed, closing the refrigerator door with a huff, “you shouldn’t leave the fridge open, the food is going to spoil.” 

This was just typical Sam and his typical bitchy attitude. Dean hadn’t known how much he was going to miss it at the time.

“I like the breeze,” Dean had said through the mouthful of cherry pie he was eating. It had been great pie, too; his mother had brought it the last time she had come for a visit. The crust was exactly the right consistency, not too hard, not too soft, light and flaky, perfectly golden brown, and mouthwatering. And the inside, the inside was incredibly delicious, the cherries tart and sweet and thick. 

Damn, Dean could really go for some pie. Maybe that could quell some of his panic.

Anyways, Sam had thrown Dean a disapproving look, which, nothing new there, and launched into a speech about how he wasn’t going to be around all the time, and how Dean needed to be more careful, as if Dean hadn’t been living without Sam for the eight months since Sam had married Jess and they had moved in together. It’s not like Dean couldn’t take care of himself.

“If you didn’t have Cas around,” Sam had griped, “I’d probably have to call you every hour just to make sure you were still alive!” Okay, yeah, Dean had a roommate, but that didn’t detract from his previous statement. Dean could easily take care of himself.

“It’s not like you don’t do that anyway,” Dean had mumbled, cutting himself another slice of pie. It had been too good to let it sit there, and it wasn’t like Sam was going to have a piece, the health nut. 

So, Dean had dug in to his pie as Sam continued to complain about whatever, Dean zoning him out because really, he had heard it all before. Sam was like a broken record with this stuff. 

“… and where is Cas, anyways?” Sam had asked, looking around, realizing that Dean’s aforementioned roommate was nowhere to be seen. 

“What?” Crumbs had flown out of his mouth as he spoke, causing him to frown. He was going to have to clean the table, and probably the floor, too, now. One thing that Dean really hated was a mess.

Sam had glared and grabbed the pie off the table, dumping the remains in the trash, turning back to Dean with a satisfied look on his face.

“Hey!” Dean had yelped in shock. 

“Maybe now you’ll listen,” Sam had said, and Dean had to hold himself back from responding with an overly sarcastic, “sure, okay” in fear the Sam would dump the rest of the pie in the trash as well. “I asked where Cas was.”

“He’s out with Anna,” Dean had muttered, mourning the loss of his pie. “He probably won’t be back tonight if you want to throw out everything that makes him happy, too. Or, do you want to wait till he comes back so you can crush his dreams right in front of him?” 

Sam had rolled his eyes. “He wanted to talk to me about something, but I guess I can just talk to him tomorrow.” 

Dean had perked up slightly at that. “What did he want to talk to you about?” After throwing out his pie, the least Sam could do was offer him some gossip. Not that Dean was interested in that kind of thing. He and Sam weren’t two rich women talking over tea and cucumber sandwiches about how that awful woman down the street was cheating on her husband with the pool boy.

Sam had shrugged. “He didn’t say.” His eyes had drifted to the clock. “I should get going, I told Jess I’d be home before ten.” 

Of course, Dean had coughed, “whipped” into his hand at that, he was an older brother, it came in the job description. Sam had just rolled his eyes again. Dean honestly wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes got stuck like that some day. 

That was the last time Dean had seen Sam.

“This is why you’re so panicked,” Cas states neutrally, more paying attention to the noodles he’s eating way too slowly than to what Dean is saying.

Dean is not going to have that, he decides, grabbing Cas’s noodles and dumping them in the garbage. He may be allowed to ignore Sam in favor of food, but Cas can’t do that to him. 

Cas gives Dean an incredibly offended look, his chopsticks still poised over where his noodles had been, ready to scoop up more. Too bad for them, since they were now in the trash.

“You aren’t listening to me, Cas, this is important,” Dean insists urgently, trying to get Cas to understand. “Sam is missing!”

Cas sighs so forcefully Dean is surprised he isn’t knocked him off his chair. “You’re probably jumping to conclusions, Dean. There are plenty of reasons why you haven’t heard from Sam in a while that don’t involve kidnapping or death.”

 

Dean’s eyes widen. “Death? Who said anything about death?” Dean hadn’t even entertained that idea. What if Sam was dead? What if he had choked on some lettuce or one of his protein shakes had actually turned out to be poisonous? Dean knew that rabbit food was dangerous, if only Sam had listened!

“Dean,” Cas says, leaning forward to grip Dean’s wrist in an effort to calm him. It doesn’t work, if the flip Dean’s stomach does in response is anything to go by. “I’m sure that Sam isn’t dead. Have you spoken to Jess?” 

“Uh, yeah, she’s been visiting her parents for the past week,” he answers, “but Sam didn’t go with her. He had a work thing and he was supposed to be back on Monday night. It’s Saturday, Cas! It’s almost been a week!”

“Maybe he went to Jess’s parents instead of coming back here,” Cas suggests, but Dean is shaking his head before he even finishes his sentence.

“I called and asked Jess if he was there when he didn’t come back on Monday,” Dean explains. “And before you say it, she wasn’t lying, I even drove there to check.”

Cas blinks about fifteen times before saying, “Isn’t that rather excessive?”

Dean doesn’t know what he’s talking about; there’s nothing wrong with him wanting to check in on his little brother. Sam means a lot to him, sue him if he’s a little worried. 

Ignoring his comment, Dean states, “We have to find Sam, Cas.”

Cas looks at him a moment before sighing, “What would you have me do?” 

Dean has to hold back his grin because, while he’s glad to have Cas on board, this is not really a time to be smiling.

“Help me find him,” Dean offers, unable to come up with anything else. Cas nods in response.

“How?” he asks, which, yeah, it’s a completely reasonable question. A reasonable question that Dean doesn’t have an answer to, however.

Dean decides changing the subject is probably in his best interest. 

“Did Sam come to you last week to talk to you? He said he was going to,” Dean inquires nonchalantly, telling himself that he’s just wondering if Sam had been missing since before his work thing, or if maybe he never even went to it. It’s definitely not because he doesn’t like being left out, or that Cas thought he could talk to Sam about something that he couldn’t with Dean. Dean was his best friend, after all.

Cas thinks for a moment, chewing on his lip. Dean’s eyes can’t help but track the movement. It is the only movement in the room, what else is he going to look at?

“He didn’t,” Cas finally announces, looking a little relieved about it for some reason. 

Dean can’t help but ask, “What did you want to talk to him about, anyways?”

Cas looks more panicked at the question than Dean made himself out to be five minutes ago. He didn’t know what Cas wanted to talk to Sam about that could possibly instill that kind of fear in him when asked about it, but it was probably something good.

Maybe Dean kind of was a rich lady with cucumber sandwiches wanting the scoop on the neighbors. Maybe Dean was just jealous that Cas was going to share some insane secret with Sam and not with Dean, his so called best friend. Who knows. 

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Cas has his deer-in-headlights look going for about another thirty seconds before he blurts, “Skiing!” 

Dean gives him a confused look. “Skiing?” he asks. 

“Sam has partaken in many different sports in the past, and I wanted to know how he felt about skiing,” Cas explains, looking satisfied with his answer. Dean is still confused. 

“Why would you want to know that?” Dean wonders. Cas had never shown any interest in skiing before.

And why would Cas be so afraid to tell Dean that he wanted to ask about skiing? This wasn’t adding up.

Maybe… maybe Cas had really wanted to talk to Sam about Dean? That would explain the hesitance to tell Dean about it and why he wouldn’t have gone to Dean in the first place. But what about Dean would he have wanted to talk about? 

“Dean, shouldn’t we be focusing on finding Sam?” Cas asks almost desperately, his cheeks having turned a bright pink color. 

(Truthfully, Cas had been going to speak to Sam about his more than platonic feelings for Dean, and what he should do about them. He quite wishes that Sam had shown up for the talk; maybe he wouldn’t be struggling so much now.)

That jolts Dean out of his thoughts. “You’re right,” he agrees, grabbing his phone. “I’m gonna call Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Cas repeats. “Why would you–” but Dean leaves the room before he can finish, calling Charlie while he does so.

“ _What’s up_?” Charlie asks once she picks up.

“I need your help,” Dean tells her, giving his voice a pleading tone. If there’s anything Charlie can’t resist, it’s a Winchester in need. 

“ _No can do_ ,” Charlie says, not even apologetically. “ _There’s something I’m busy doing this weekend._ ” He hears sheets ruffle and a giggle from the other side.

Correction: if there’s one thing Charlie can’t resist, it’s women. Everything comes second to them in her book, even a Winchester.

“Charlie, it’s Sam,” Dean insists, knowing that he’s going to have to give her all the details if she’s going to help. “I think he’s missing.” 

There’s a pause on the other side. “ _Say no more,_ ” Charlie says, and Dean isn’t sure if she’s excited or resigned. “ _I’ll be there in five._ ”

Dean thinks she’s hung up after that, but a second later she says, “ _If I’m gonna take this case, there’d better be pizza._ ” The line goes dead. 

Dean had figured as much.

\--

Forty minutes later, Dean, Cas, and Charlie are sitting on the couch in the main room of the small apartment, munching on their pizza in silence, watching a bee documentary that Cas put on. He was the only one paying attention, to say the least. 

Charlie takes one last bite of her pizza before throwing it into the box. “Okay!” she exclaims, standing up and rounding the coffee table. “If we’re going to find Sam we’re going to need to assemble a task force.”

Cas says, “A task force?” in confusion, his nose scrunching adorably – not that Dean noticed or thought that – at the same time Dean says, “No!”

“No?” Charlie repeats, sounding offended. “Why wouldn’t we need a task force?”

“Why _would_ we need a task force?” Dean asks in annoyance. They didn’t have time for this; they needed to find Sam as soon as possible. 

“I have watched every cop show you can think of and they’ve all had task forces,” Charlie insists, putting her hands on her hips.

“I doubt you’ve watched every cop show,” Dean says with an eye roll. There’s no way Charlie could have possibly watched that many cop shows.

“NCIS,” Charlie begins to list, “Law and Order, all the CSIs, Criminal Minds, Castle, Monk, 21 Jump Street, NYPD Blue, The Wire–”

“Okay, Charlie, I get it,” Dean interrupts. “You know the names of a lot of cop shows; I don’t get your point. And besides, most of those are fake anyway.”

“I have watched all of those shows!” Charlie snaps defensively. “I even have the DVDs if you need the proof! I did not come here from what could have been a record-breaking amount of sex with the beautiful woman I met last night to be told that I don’t know my cop shows! I will go to my apartment right now, don’t test me, Winchester!”

Dean puts his hands up in surrender. He takes note to never challenge Charlie’s knowledge on TV shows ever again. 

“Fine, fine, you watched them. Get to the point.” He leans over to Cas, who’s still squinting with confusion and mutters, “She didn’t watch them.”

Charlie’s anger immediately elapses into a grin. “My point is that for every crime you have a task force to solve it. If we don’t have a task force we can’t solve this.”

Dean gives in with a sigh, causing Charlie’s grin to widen in excitement. 

“Okay, there’re already three of us,” Charlie says unhelpfully. “We’ll need at least three more.”

“Why?” Dean whines to which Charlie rolls her eyes like the answer is incredibly obvious. 

“Task forces always have more than three people,” she explains. “Were there only three Avengers? Or were there just three Scoobies?”

She did have a point, but, “There were only three of them in Star Wars,” Dean points out.

“Not if you count C3PO and R2,” Charlie corrects him, “which you should, by the way. There’s no way they would’ve survived past Episode IV without them.” 

When all is said and done, Dean just says “whatever” realizing that fighting about the task force has only made them take up the time that Dean hadn’t wanted to lose, anyways. The whole thing was honestly just an extremely pointless conversation that could have, and should have, been skipped. Dean isn’t even quite sure why he let it happen in the first place. He regrets the whole thing.

“You two have said “task force” eight times,” Cas says, making air quotes as he does so, “and I still have no clue what you’re referring to.”

Charlie gives him an _oh honey_ look and Dean just pats him on the shoulder. Cas looks between the two of them like a lost puppy.

“Cas, why don’t you go get everything on this list?” Charlie suggests, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket and giving it to Cas. “We’re going to need all of it for our investigation.”

Cas nods very seriously, taking the list, grabbing his jacket, and heading out the door as if he had just been given a mission by the President. Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at that; it was too endearing not to.

When Dean looks up, Charlie is giving him a weird look, a cross between curious and exasperated. Dean isn’t sure what she means by it. 

Charlie whips a notebook out of the bag she had brought with her claiming that it “had everything they need”. She flips through the book for a second.

“What’s that?” Dean asks, getting up to look over her shoulder.

“I’ve been waiting for us to need a task force for a very long time,” Charlie says absentmindedly, continuing to skim through the notebook. “You never know when you might need one; it’s good to be prepared.” 

Charlie flips past Robot Apocalypse Task Force, Zombie Apocalypse Task Force, Biblical Apocalypse Task Force, and Ragnarök Task Force before Dean asks, “Are these all for the apocalypse?” and then, “And why wasn’t I on your Biblical Apocalypse Task Force? Cas was!” 

Charlie laughs. “I think you’d be more the person to start the biblical apocalypse than end it, honestly.” Dean huffs indignantly at that. “Cas is there because under his awkward exterior, he’s total badass, which, hey, can’t have enough badassery during the apocalypse. And they aren’t all for apocalypses, I’m just in the apocalypse section.”

She ignores Dean’s muttered, “I’m badass” in favor of turning back to her notebook full of lies. 

She skips a few pages and before beginning to turn the pages slowly again. She passes by Assassination Task Force, Hide the Body Task Force, and Prison Task Force, and then skips a few more pages. She lands on Take Away Jo’s Knives ~~Suicide Squad~~ Task Force, and turns to Get Sam a Dog Task Force, and then, Get Dean and Cas Together Ta—wait, what?

“What was that?” Dean asks slowly, looking up at Charlie, who mouths, “oh shit” and slams the book shut.

“Nothing!” she squeaks, trying and failing to look casual.

“That wasn’t nothing,” Dean persists, narrowing his eyes. “You had a task force to convince me to let Sam get a dog! You said you were on my side!”

Charlie visibly gives a sigh of relief, her entire body relaxing with it. Dean has no clue why she’d do this, considering she obviously knew that he’d be pissed about the task force for getting Sam a dog. Why else would she have reacted like she did?

“I was on your side!” Charlie lies. (In all honesty, she didn’t see why Sam couldn’t have gotten a dog when he and Dean had been living together; Sam had only wanted a teacup yorkie – which was a type of dog that Charlie hadn’t pegged as the type Sam would want, but whatever floats his boat – which wouldn’t have been a hassle in the way a dog like a golden retriever would have been. But Dean didn’t need to know this.) “I was just preparing in case Sam asked for my help!”

Dean rolls his eyes but decides to let it go. Charlie seems to deem it safe to open the book again, carefully making sure to not let Dean see the page with the dog task force, Dean figures. He is curious who she has on it, though, considering they all must have been on Team Sam, therefore betraying Dean and his trust. 

He’s going to have to sneak the book away from her later to see who they are.

She passes by Ash Goes Missing Task Force, which is starred off, unsurprisingly, followed by Castiel Goes Missing Task Force, then Charlie Goes Missing Task Force – Dean thinks this seems pointless, considering Charlie was the one who had the notebook – and then Dean Goes Missing Task Force. This is when Dean realizes that this is alphabetized and says, “Please just skip to “S”.”

Charlie grumbles under her breath but does just that, getting to a page labeled Sam Goes Missing Task Force. She sticks her index finger in the page before closing it with a grin.

“I’m going to go assemble the task force,” Charlie announces, grinning far too much in Dean’s opinion, considering she’s helping Dean with a rescue mission to save his brother. “You sit here and angst or whatever you do in your free time.” 

She skips out the door like a little kid and, honestly, while Dean loves Charlie, she annoys the living hell out of him. But what were sisters for if not that?

\--

About twenty minutes after Charlie leaves – twenty minutes that Dean did not spend watching Doctor Sexy MD, and if he did, if, it was only because he was trying to distract himself from the panic his brother’s absence was causing him – Cas returns, his arms filled with shopping bags, which he promptly drops on the floor the second the door opens.

Dean rushes to help him, picking up some of the bags and bringing them to the coffee table. He opens one of them and frowns.

“Why is there a bunch of glitter in here?” Dean asks, looking at Cas in confusion. Cas smiles that soft smile he gets when he’s asked about something he loves, or when someone mentions Dean. Dean’s not sure why he smiles the same way for both, though it could have something to do with Dean being his best friend. Dean’s heart skips a beat, but it’s not because of that, no, it’s because he’s worried about being in the presence of so much glitter. He’s going to have to throw the bag out before it gets on anything.

“I liked it,” Cas explains, peering into the bag. “It’s amazing how such small flakes of color can make other objects seem much more interesting than they are. I would like to see how it works on some of my own belongings.” Cas looks up at Dean, with the smile still in place.

Okay, yeah, Dean hates the stuff, but he guesses it can stay. And he’s not only saying that because of Cas’s stupid smile; it’s because they do have some things that could use sprucing up.

“Just don’t get it everywhere,” Dean gives in gruffly, turning to look through the other bags.

Dean pulls out a huge spool of orange yarn, looking it over. Why the hell would – oh no. Charlie was not seriously going to make one of the case boards like in the movies. A quick look in the rest of the bags proved that, yes, she was, if the pushpins and tacks were anything to go by. At this rate, Sam was going to have died of old age by the time they found him.

He pushes that thought away before his heart starts pounding and his eyes tear. Sam is going to be fine; panicking will only make all of this worse. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

“This is orange,” Dean states pointlessly, looking over at Cas. “Charlie didn’t ask for red?” The yarn was always red in the movies.

Cas looks confused, his eyes squinting in a way that is not at all adorable. “It’s not orange,” he says, taking the yarn out of Dean’s hand. “It’s red.” He points at the label, which clearly says “RED”. 

Dean shakes his head. “It’s orange, man. The label’s wrong.” The yarn was clearly orange; it was way too light to be the color red. 

“It’s not orange, Dean,” Cas insists. “Not only does the label clearly state that it is, in fact, red, the yarn is also the color red.” Dean ignores him because he’s not in the habit of listening to bullshit.  
Instead of continuing the debate, Dean carefully gives the bag of glitter to Cas to put in his own room, warning him not to drop the bag.

Of course, about three seconds later Cas trips over a life size cat figurine that must have fallen out of one of the bags when Cas had dropped them, the bag of glitter flying through the air, and because the fan was on, it coats the entire main room, almost everything in it, and the two of them. 

Dean spits out an entire mouthful of glitter. “Why, uh, why’d you buy the cat?” Dean asks, trying to stay calm.

“I liked it,” Cas replies into the carpet, his voice muffled. 

“Right.” Dean surveys the room, taking in all the glitter. “You know I’m going to have to kill you.”

Cas still doesn’t move; Dean figures he doesn’t have the will to. 

“I know,” Cas responds, his voice still muted by the floor. 

This just wasn’t Dean’s week, really.


	2. Chapter 2

When Charlie returns an hour later, she opens the door with an excited, “Guys!” before taking in the scene before her with a completely baffled expression.

Dean can’t blame her – almost everywhere is covered in glitter and Cas is still lying on the floor, nearly camouflaged by the glitter covering him. Dean himself is lying on the glitter-covered couch, also covered in the stuff, staring at the ceiling and rethinking his life choices. 

“Did you two kill a bunch of Edward Cullen clones in here?” Charlie asks, stepping into the apartment. She uses her foot to nudge Cas slightly, looking distastefully at the glitter now covering her shoe. “Is he dead?”

Dean doesn’t respond, just continuing to look at the ceiling. There’s no glitter on the ceiling. It reminds Dean of the glitter-free life he had been living only yesterday. Why did Cas have to buy a two pound bag of glitter? What the hell kind of store carries two-pound bags of glitter that weren’t sealed? What the hell kind of store even carries two pound bags of glitter?

Charlie shakes her head, going into the closet by the door and pulling out a vacuum. She begins to vacuum up the glitter covering the place muttering, “lazy assholes” under her breath. Dean doesn’t appreciate that, and he’s sure Cas doesn’t either, but neither of them have the strength to move, let alone defend themselves. Seeing your entire apartment covered in glitter and knowing that no matter how hard you try, the glitter will never truly go away really takes the life out of you.

Charlie vacuums over Cas, using the hose, careful not to suck up his hair. She continues onto the rest of carpet, the coffee table, the couch, then over Dean.

She poises the vacuum’s hose over Dean’s face, sucking up the sparkles. Dean slowly feels his strength returning, like the individual flakes had been latching onto Dean and sucking out his soul. 

“You’re welcome,” Charlie says with a roll of her eyes, taking the hose from over Dean’s face and moving it back to floor.

Dean sits up from the couch and almost throws up at the sight of all the glitter still covering the room. This feels like something out of his worst nightmare, and, to be honest, he thinks the worst part might just be that he’s pretty sure if he threw up, a lot of it would be glitter.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Dean mumbles quietly, heading towards the bathroom, stepping over Cas’s practically lifeless body. 

\--

Forty-two minutes later when Dean gets out of the shower and into thankfully sparkle-free clothes, the room is considerably less glittery, but is still glittery enough that Dean kind of wants to jump out the window.

Charlie has given up vacuuming – she’s a saint for having done as much as she did – and is trying to coax Cas off the floor with some tea.

“C’mon, Cas,” Charlie is practically begging, “it’s your favorite. I even put honey in it!” Cas mumbles something but doesn’t react any further.

“That was one time, Cas, I didn’t know that you were supposed to use a spoon to get out the honey! I just thought you could just tilt it and a little would come out, it was an honest mistake, and I learned my lesson!” Charlie objects. 

Cas sighs and turns over and Dean almost screams from the sight of Cas’s face completely covered in glitter. Given Charlie’s petrified expression, it’s safe to say she has the same thought.

“Give me the tea,” Cas says, glitter spewing from his mouth with each word.

“Oh my God,” Charlie whimpers, “I think I saw this in a nightmare once.” She shoves the tea into Cas hands and backs away slowly.

Cas looks so confused – or Dean assumes that he does from the tilt of his head – that Dean takes pity on him, even in his grotesque state.

“You, uh, you’ve got a little glitter on your face,” Dean tells him, trying not to look at the image in front of him, which gets even worse once Cas sets his gaze on Dean.

God, he looks horrifying. His entire face is covered in an extremely thick layer of sparkles, and they’re not coming off. It should defy the laws of physics or something, maybe gravity, but the glitter, despite being about an inch off Cas’s face, aren’t falling onto the floor. They’re just sticking. The only part of Cas’s face that’s discernible are his eyes, like two holes inside a barren wasteland of colored pieces of plastic; his eyes aren’t even visible under the shadow the glitter was causing. He looks like a goddamn glitter demon. If Charlie hadn’t actually seen this in a nightmare, she is probably going to, and Dean definitely will, too.

Cas wipes at his cheek and a ton of glitter rains off and onto the floor making the skin on cheek almost visible. Charlie looks down at the pile of glitter on the floor with a frown.

“Did I get it?” Cas asks, looking between Dean and Charlie.

Charlie grimaces, while Dean says, “Not quite.” It’s definitely an understatement.

Charlie gets up and walks out to the balcony where Cas has his small garden. Dean figures that she couldn’t stand the sight anymore and needed some air, so he turns his attention back to Cas. 

He steps toward him reluctantly and kneels to his level on the floor where Charlie had been before. He places one hand on the back of Cas’s neck and, as he’s lifting his other hand to remove the glitter from Cas’s face, he realizes that if Cas didn’t currently look like a glitter monster, and if his lips were actually visible, Dean would be in the perfect position to kiss Cas.

He could almost see it, him and Cas kissing. Dean would hold Cas’s neck as he is now, probably bring his other hand to cup Cas’s cheek. Cas’s eyes would go wide as Dean’s intent became clear to him, and they would slowly close as he began to lean in as well. Their lips would finally meet in –

“Holy shit!” Dean yells when he’s suddenly soaking wet with ice cold water. He looks up and sees Charlie standing over the two of them with Cas’s watering can, which she apparently got from the balcony for her to fill with freezing water to dump on Cas and remove the sparkles.

“Sorry, Dean, but it had to be done,” Charlie tells him seriously, nodding to Cas, whose face is now mostly clear of glitter and is dripping from the waterfall of icy water Charlie had dumped on them.

“You could have warned me first!” Dean yelps, now frigid from the water. “I just changed my clothes!”

Charlie rolls her eyes, as if Dean’s clothes mean nothing to her. Honestly, they probably did, but she doesn’t have to rub that fact in his face. 

“I saved us all! So what if your clothes had to be sacrificed? It was worth it!” 

“To you maybe,” Dean mutters, getting up to go change his clothes again. Maybe Dean was a little disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to wipe the sparkles off Cas’s face and then ki – wait. He was not going to kiss Cas. Maybe he had considered it before, but him and Cas are just friends, practically brothers, even. There’s no way Dean actually wants to kiss Cas, it’s just something he thought about, a fantasy. And fantasies weren’t real, nor did anyone want them to be real. Sure, some kids – not Dean, ever, obviously – want unicorns to be real, but when they grow up, they realize that having horses with ice picks on their head? Not a very good idea. It was the same with this, kissing Cas seemed good theoretically, but in actuality, it was be a very bad idea.

Dean pointedly does not think of the fact that he doesn’t know the reason why.

Cas is still on the floor, shivering slightly and looking at the sea of sparkles on his lap with surprise.

“I had all of this glitter on my face?” he asks with alarm, which is honestly very relatable to Dean. “How is that possible?” He looks up at Dean, and Dean is relieved that his face is no longer something out of a Twilight movie gone wrong.

Then he blushes, remembering what he had been thinking when he had been holding Cas’s face. Surprisingly, seeing Cas devoid of glitter makes him long for his fantasy from before, but he shakes it.

Instead of doing something stupid, like jumping Cas or blurting out some girly ass love confession, he offers him a shrug and heads off to change his clothes again.

He is not some teenage girl with a crush.

\--

When he’s passing the bathroom on his way back to the main room, he hears the shower running and tries very hard – and fails – not to think about Cas naked, water dripping down his back towards the curve of ass and down his thighs. 

Dean grits his teeth and enters the main room, surprised to see that in the two minutes he was gone, the room had gained multiple new occupants. 

“This is the task force!” Charlie says excitedly, sweeping her hand dramatically in the direction of the room’s new occupants. “Well, not everyone, Cas isn’t here, but once he finishes in the shower” – Dean manages to stop himself from flinching – “it’ll be everyone.”

Dean takes in the four other people that Charlie has deemed suitable to help him find his brother and nods his head slowly.

“Alright,” Dean says, not exactly sure he agrees with the arrangement, but positive Charlie has good reason for each of them.

Charlie motions for him to sit down on the loveseat, as the others were occupying the couch. Dean sits down on one end, making room for Cas when he returns. 

Ten minutes later Cas enters the room, clear of sparkles and water dripping down his face from his even messier than usual towel dried hair. Dean shifts awkwardly, trying not to think about the image from earlier. Cas looks confused but sits down on the loveseat – no, smaller couch – once Dean signals him over.

“Now that we’re all here,” Charlie begins, “we can get started.” She opens her mouth to continue, but Dean breaks in.

“Why did you choose them?” Dean interrupts rudely, not sure why Charlie chose people that she did. 

Charlie rolls her eyes as if the answer is obvious. “Everyone here has a different role in the group dynamic.”

Jo, the only one that Dean feels has a good reason to be here, raises her hand slowly. “Why are we even here?” she inquires. “You failed to mention that part.”

“One question at a time, folks,” Charlie says, moving her hands in a motion intended to placate. “To answer your question, Dean, you’re the widow –” Dean makes a noise of protest in response to that, making Charlie pause.

“I’m not a widow!” Dean protests. He isn’t a widow, he’s just a concerned older brother. He isn’t even wearing black. A surreptitious look at his clothes shows that he is, in fact, wearing a black shirt, but his jeans are blue, so that doesn’t actually mean anything. 

Charlie doesn’t validate that with a response, continuing, “I’m the brains of this operation, obviously, Jo over here is the brawn, Meg,” she points at the bitch – in Dean’s unbiased opinion – in question –“is here to offer sarcastic comments and tell us that all of our plans are awful; the Spike of the group if you will.” Next she turns to Victor. “Victor is here for his connections. He’s a police officer, so we won’t be arrested. There you go.”

“I didn’t agree to bail you guys out,” Victor protests, raising his hand as Jo did before.

“Well, you have now,” Charlie tells him, giving him a smile that isn’t very sincere. Victor just nods, not wanting to argue with Charlie; no one ever does.

“What about him?” Dean asks, pointing to last person in the room, everyone turning to look at him as well.

Gabriel was sprawled across the couch, his head on the arm of it, his ass in Victor’s lap – who seemed quite uncomfortable with the arrangement – and his feet dangling off the couch from where Meg keeps shoving them off of her. He’s been sucking on a lollipop the entire time he’s been there, having gone through two already and opening up his third. He throws the stick of his old lollipop towards the garbage, missing completely, before he raises his head to grin at Dean.

“Hey, Dean-o,” he greets, “I didn’t know you’d be here.” He shoves his lollipop in his mouth, still managing his smirk around it.

“This is my apartment!” Dean says at the same time Victor mournfully explains, “He won’t stop following me.” 

Gabriel sits up slightly, pulling out his lollipop for a second to smack a loud, wet kiss on Victor’s cheek and say, “You love it, babe.” He turns back to Dean, missing Victor’s disgusted look and wipe of his cheek. “You forget that you share this apartment with my little bro, and I’m not sure you two ever actually leave the bedroom unless you know company is here. We could probably have this meeting without you two even hearing over the sound of your fucking.” When he sees Dean’s outrage, he amends, “Excuse me, “love making”.” He pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

“Gabriel,” Cas snaps, blushing slightly. He places a hand on Dean’s arm which is currently the only thing stopping him from shoving Gabriel’s stupid lollipop down his stupid throat. That and he’s pretty sure Cas wouldn’t talk to him anymore if he killed his brother, even if he is a huge pain in the ass. Dean guesses that Cas means more to him than putting Gabriel in his place.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here,” Charlie suddenly breaks in, “but I guess he can be the comic relief.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I’m the brains here,” he tells Charlie, getting off the couch – to Victor’s obvious relief – and standing next to her. He plucks Charlie’s book out of her hands, scanning the page.

Charlie snatches it back, looking about ready to punch him in the face. Dean would be happy to hold Gabriel in place while she does so, in fact, he’d be more than happy. 

“I’m the brains,” Charlie argues hotly, “you don’t even know why you’re here.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gabriel declared, running out the door of the apartment.

“Quick, someone lock it,” Dean mutters, and just as Jo, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, gets up to do just that, Gabriel barrels through the door, wheeling in a huge corkboard. He rolls it to the middle of the room, right behind Charlie and stops, taking a rolled up picture out of his pocket and a pushpin from one of the bags – which he brushes the glitter off of with a frown – and pins the picture onto the board.

“There,” he says, taking in the board. 

“Where’d you get that from?” Dean wonders. There hadn’t been a huge corkboard in the hallway the last time Dean had been in it and surely Cas would have mentioned it if it had been there earlier. 

“Some questions weren’t made to be answered, Dean-o,” Gabriel tells him with a wink.

“Why is there a moose on the board?” Cas interrupts, squinting. Turning to Dean, he says, “I don’t think Charlie was wrong. He seems to believe we’re in search of moose.”

“No, Cassie,” Gabriel reassured. “I know exactly what’s going on here. Dean’s little bro has gone missing and we’re all here to find him. The picture you see on that board is not a moose, as you may believe, it’s Sammy-boy in his natural state.”

“Right,” Charlie says, “Now sit the fuck down.” Charlie fixes him with her deadliest glare, the one she gives Dean when he tries to switch off a bad episode of Buffy because “the bad episodes are what make the good ones so much better, and anyway look how hot Buffy is in this episode I can’t miss out on that”. Even Gabriel sobers up on the receiving end of it and sits back on Victor’s lap, to Victor’s dismay. 

“What about Clarence?” Meg asks suddenly, blowing smoke out of her cigarette. Dean frowns; he’s told Meg not to smoke in the apartment almost a million times. He’d rather Meg never even come in to the apartment, but Dean can’t stop Cas’s friends from coming over, no matter how much of a bitch they are.

“What about him?” Dean demands defensively. Meg rolls her eyes and blows out another puff of smoke.

“I was just wondering why Charlie didn’t mention his purpose in the group,” she explains scathingly. Then, “If that’s okay with you, Dean-o.” She smirks at him.

Dean doesn’t understand why he’s being attacked. He’s the one with the missing brother, after all, it would be nice if everyone at least tried to be nice to him. 

He’s just starting to respond a very witty comeback of “fuck you, bitch” when Charlie interrupts with, “He’s the straight man.” That has everyone pausing in their tracks to stare at her.

Cas blinks. “I’m gay, Charlie,” he says very slowly, as if talking to a child. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel pipes in, “he’s a hard six according to Kinsey, and I’m definitely not inclined to disagree.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “I know that,” she reassures. “The straight man is the character that stays serious when the other ones do crazy things. Like Jim from the Office or Ann and Ben from Parks & Rec.”

“I don’t know who either of those people are,” Cas states blandly. Charlie sighs so dramatically she does a spin to go along with it.

“We need to sit you down in front of a TV for a month,” Charlie grumbles, then perks up, exclaiming, “I think I have a task force for that!” She begins thumbing through her notebook.

“Uh, Charlie, missing brother here,” Dean cuts in, trying to bring her back to the situation at hand. 

“Right, sorry,” Charlie says but mouths, “we’ll talk” to Cas and winks. “Let’s start with Plan A.”

She pulls a small whiteboard and a red dry erase marker out from one of the shopping bags Cas had brought in for her. She writes “PLAN A” in big letters on the board followed by “JESS”.

Dean shakes his head. “I already talked with Jess,” he tells her with a sigh. “She doesn’t know where Sam is. ‘Said that he wasn’t with her at her parents.” 

“That’s out, then,” Charlie says, erasing the board. “On to Plan B.”

She writes “PLAN B” followed by “INTERVIEW THE SUSPECTS”.

“We don’t have any suspects,” Cas points out. “We don’t even have any proof that Sam is actually missing.”

Just as Dean is about to shove Cas off the couch for questioning him, Jo exclaims, “Sam is missing?” from the other side of the room. Fine, Dean supposes that Cas can live this one time.

Charlie just looks at her. “Was that not obvious?”

“You didn’t mention it!” Jo insists. “There was a lot of talk about Sam and there’s a picture of him on that corkboard but you never told me that Sam was missing! I thought this was a game or something.”

“It’s a picture of a moose!” Cas protests at the same time Charlie asks, “Did anyone else think this was game?”

Victor nods, Meg shrugs, and Gabriel pulls out his lollipop to let out a loud “yup” popping the “p”. 

Charlie does the dramatic spin and sigh again, this time with the added hands to the head move. 

“Well, this isn’t a game,” Dean breaks in because, honestly, this is unbelievable. “Sam is really missing and I don’t know where he is, so we’re all going to sit here and brainstorm who could possibly have something to do with Sam’s disappearance and we’re going to do it as fast as possible so I can get my little brother back and if I don’t, so help me, I will make all of you pay, even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Everyone pauses to look at Dean in stunned silence after his speech in varying degrees of shock.

“Wow, Dean-o,” Gabriel laughs, sucking loudly on his lollipop. “I didn’t know you cared about me so much. You’d spend your whole life just trying to kill me? This feels like love.” 

Perhaps Dean doesn’t care as much about Cas’s friendship as he thought, because he jumps off the couch and belts Gabriel right in the face, despite the fact Cas will probably be upset with him for punching his brother.

The punch has worse consequences than Dean could have anticipated, however, as Gabriel’s head ricochets against Victor’s chin, which causes Victor’s arm to reflexively shoot up and smack Meg in the face, which leads to her tossing the lighter she was using to light her cigarette and it landing directly into Charlie’s hair. 

“Shit!” Charlie yelps, knocking the lighter out of her hair, but it’s already too late; her hair has caught on fire.

They all just stay rooted to the spot in horror as Charlie screeches and tries to put out the fire with her hands unsuccessfully before she drops to the floor in the classic stop, drop, and roll tactic, which, does not, unfortunately, stop a fire on one’s head. The fire spreads to the carpet by the time Cas throws a blanket onto Charlie’s head, putting out the fire there.

“If this burned my hair off I’m going to kill you,” Charlie growls at no one in particular – although she was probably talking to Dean – as she holds the blanket to her head. 

The fire continues to spread from the carpet to the loveseat where Cas is standing, just staring at the spreading fire with an “oh shit” expression.

Dean grabs Cas and pulls him towards him before the fire can spread onto his shoes. The six of them – bar Charlie – look between each other frantically as the flames engulf the loveseat and carpet.

\--

Two hours later, a call to 911, and a visit from the fire department later, they are back in the apartment gathered in the main room. Cas keeps looking down at the burned carpet and couch disdainfully and Dean agrees with the sentiment, they had been very nice until they were burnt by somebody’s lighter. 

He doesn’t much appreciate Cas’s comment that he “wishes the couch had burned instead.” Dean loves that couch; he picked it out himself. So what if it isn’t some fancy ass leather bullshit? It has character. 

“I told you not to smoke in here,” Dean growls at Meg, shooting her a glare. She just rolls her eyes.

“Maybe if you hadn’t decided to turn Gabe into a punching bag, none of this would have happened,” she offers coolly, pulling out another cigarette.

“Oh, no—” Dean warns, jumping up to grab the cigarettes. He is not going to let more of his couch get burnt.

Charlie puts a hand on his chest to stop him, and even though Dean knows it’s her, he’s almost startled by how different she looks. Fortunately, she had had her hair in a bun, so her scalp hadn’t been burnt; unfortunately, almost her entire bun had been burnt off, leaving her with hair that would end just by her chin once the singed tips had been cut off, a huge difference from her usually long hair.

“Let’s not start another fight,” Charlie suggests through gritted teeth, “I don’t think my hair could handle it if it went anything like the last one.”

Dean reluctantly sits back down on the couch, noticing Meg putting away her cigarettes. Dean childishly makes a gloating face at her because he can’t help himself, Meg mocking it back at him.

“Where were we?” Charlie mutters to herself, scrubbing a hand down her face before perking up slightly. “The suspects!”

“We just established that we don’t have any,” Gabriel butts in, seemingly unperturbed with his newly developing black eye. Dean wishes that he had broken his nose instead, maybe then he wouldn’t be able to talk.

 

“Hm,” Jo mumbles, trying to catch everyone’s attention while sipping the beer she had stolen from the fridge during the fire like the looter she was. Once she swallows after about thirty seconds of awkward silence, she says, “What about that creepy old lady that watches his dog sometimes?”

“Mrs. Tate?” Dean asks, trying to think of a time she gave him any creepy vibes. She’s Sam’s next-door neighbor, and she often watches Sam’s dog when it – because that thing is definitely an “it” – needs to be, as Dean refuses to since the thing is the literal devil. Whenever Dean has gone over there, she’s been incredibly polite and always has homemade cookies. She makes great cookies, too, almost as good as Dean’s mother’s. Her constant smiles and offers of sweets didn’t really make her seem creepy to Dean, but at this point, he was desperate for anything. She did have three husbands over the years; maybe she had murdered them. It usually was the ones you least expected. 

Charlie is quick to nod in agreement, writing “MRS. TATE” on a piece of paper from a small pad Cas had bought, pinning it up to the board. She looks around for a moment.

“Where’s the red yarn, Cas?” she asks, looking through the bags. 

Cas opens one of the bags and pulls out the orange yarn from before, handing it to her. She frowns.

“This is orange,” she states, looking it over. “I told you to get red.”

Cas heaves a loud sigh and gives Charlie a very Sam-esque bitch face. “It’s red. It says it on the label.”

Charlie shakes her head. “Well, clearly the label is wrong because this is definitely orange.” 

Gabriel raises an arm up, motioning for Charlie to throw it over to him. Once she does, he turns it over in his hands, looking at intently. 

 

“I’d say this is a shade of vermillion, which, while it may look like a reddish color, is actually more of an orange,” Gabriel declares, as if he knows the first thing about color. Dean isn’t inclined to disagree though, as the yarn is clearly orange. Finally he and Gabe can agree on something.

Cas turns his glare onto Gabriel, who just plops a new lollipop in his mouth, this one orange as opposed to the blue one he had earlier. 

“I can’t believe you,” he snaps, looking slightly betrayed. “It’s fucking red.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Cas’s use of language, given he never curses unless he’s really pissed. Dean pushes away the small, stupid voice in his head that says, that’s hot.

Gabriel just shrugs. “Sorry, kid.”

Cas lets out a huff, grabs the spool of orange yarn and stomps out the door, although he does make sure to close it carefully behind him because he’s just courteous that way. Dean tries not to think about how hot Cas is when he’s angry because friends don’t think about friends that way, ever. Especially if said friend is a dude and you’re also a dude. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but if it’s Dean, then yeah, it is wrong since he definitely does not swing that way. At all.

After a moment of silence, Charlie says, “Any other suggestions?” 

“What about that middle aged guy that works at the grocery store that always follows Sam around and stares at his ass?” Gabriel pipes up, causing everyone to stare at him. “What? I like to keep tabs on him; it’s the only way I may be able to win his heart.” He shrugs as if trying to win the heart of a married man who would rather put a wasp’s nest over his head than even consider going on a date with him by following him around was completely normal. This was especially made weird by the fact that Gabriel already had a fiancée – lord help her – and Dean doubts she would appreciate knowing that Gabriel is trying to “win the heart” of another man.

“Okay…” Charlie says, writing “CREEPY GROCERY DUDE” on a piece of paper and pinning it up. She looks back to Gabe. “Do you know his name?”

Gabe shakes his head, answering, “Nah, but he works there when Sam goes shopping, which is Sundays at eleven thirty-two – the traffic – in the morning, way too early in my opinion, but Sam does wake up at five thirty to go jogging, so it isn’t really early for him.” He shrugs again.

At this, Charlie’s eyes are bugging out, Jo’s gaping, Victor has his I’m-going-to-arrest-you face on, and even Meg looks slightly perturbed. Dean’s channeling both Charlie and Jo, because what the fuck.

“What?” Gabe questions, seeing all of their shocked expressions. “Was it something I said?” 

“How do you…?” Jo manages, the only one brave enough to ask a question that probably has a very horrifying answer.

Gabriel smiles the same mysterious smile he had earlier when Dean had asked about the corkboard. 

“Some questions aren’t made to be answered, Joanna-Beth,” he tells her as vaguely as before, popping his orange lollipop back in his mouth. Dean was going to have to go with him on this one; he honestly didn’t want to know the details about Gabriel stalking his brother.

Victor, looking slightly scared – probably that Gabe’s new attachment to him will end up like his one with Sam – tries to scoot away from Gabe to no avail; Gabe just moves with him, giving Victor a satisfied smirk. Dean’s glad he isn’t him, or Sam, for that matter. 

Charlie decides to ignore Gabriel’s stalking tendencies for now, asking, “Any other suspects?”

“I vote Dean-o,” Meg offers, throwing Dean a cocky look.

Dean blinks. “Excuse me?” How could Dean possibly be the one who kidnapped Sam? That is absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re just protective enough that you would be the type to lock Little Brother in a basement somewhere so he wouldn’t ever get hurt,” Meg drawls with a shrug. 

“I’d buy that,” Jo agrees with another sip of her beer.

“Jo!” Dean yelps, feeling betrayed. She gives him an apologetic look but doesn’t retract her statement. “I’m the one who wants to find Sam, though! Why would I do that if I was the one who kidnapped him?”

“So you wouldn’t seem suspicious!” Charlie suddenly breaks in, looking as if she’s had a holy revelation. She scrawls something on a piece of paper and pins it up. It says “DEAN”. “If only I had some damn red string,” she mutters.

“Charlie!” Dean protests because no, he did not kidnap his own brother. It isn’t like him and Sam are codependent! Sam can do whatever the hell he wants – as long as Dean knows when he’s coming back. Not because he’s protective or obsessive, just because he’s a worried big brother who’d like to be kept updated on his brother’s life. That’s all. 

“It does make sense,” Victor adds, and wow, this really is a full-scale betrayal. “I’ve seen cases like this before. One person loves the other so much they don’t want them to leave them, so they lock them up, pretend to not know where they are, hold their funeral and bam, everyone stops looking for the victim. Now, all the victim has is the kidnapper, and the kidnapper will always know where the victim is. Sam and Dean do have a pretty unhealthy dependence on each other, definitely more on Dean’s side than Sam’s. I’d say it’s a definite possibility.” 

Dean can’t believe this. He’s being betrayed, lied to, tricked, and all by his own friends, some of them practically family. Dean looks to Cas to defend him – Cas is almost always on his side, unless it’s about whether or not they should get a pet, then he is definitely not – but Cas isn’t here since he stomped out with the yarn. Dean shouldn’t have said it was orange even if it had been. Then, he’d at least have someone on his side.

“I don’t think it was him,” Gabriel announces, and Dean has never thanked the heavens for Gabriel before, but there’s a first for everything. Until, “He’s not smart enough to do something like that.” 

Scratch that, he’s going to meet Gabriel in Hell and spit in his face.

Charlie ignores Gabriel and asks about more suspects, leaving Dean to fume about the fact that he’s an actual suspect in the kidnapping of his own brother. This is definitely not where Dean thought all of this would be going.

“Oh!” Jo exclaims. “What about Becky?” 

Everyone smiles and nods to one another at that, in that way that people do in commercials when they eat the food that the advertisement is for so as to say, “Yup! This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” but in this case it means, “Yup! Becky is definitely a suspect in the possible kidnapping of someone we’re very close to!” Dean isn’t sure how they all do it at the same time like that without a script. Maybe those commercials are more accurate than he had thought they were. 

Charlie writes down Becky’s name and pins it up to the board, Dean still sulking about his name being up there, not even participating in the nod-and-smile.

Once it’s established that there are no more suspects that they can think of and that they’ll have to do the interviews tomorrow because of how late it is and when Creepy Grocery Dude works, Charlie calls the meeting a wrap. Just as everyone – excluding Dean – is about to leave, the front door flings open and Cas stomps in, looking like a soggy cat from the pouring rain that he must have been walking in outside due to his lack of car.

He stalks directly up to Charlie, thrusting a new – and wet – spool of yarn into her arms.

“Here,” he grunts. “I got you your red yarn.” Dean could probably hear the snark in his voice from a mile away, and he’s pulling a bitch face that could easily rival Sammy’s. 

Charlie looks at it for a second, turning it over in her hands. She at least has the decency to look guilty when she informs him that, “This is still orange.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is fast asleep in bed, everyone having left a little while before, after Cas had almost broken down in tears over the yarn, and Charlie had told him that she would just buy some on her way home. Following this, Jo had tried to eat some leftover pie in the fridge, and her and Dean had almost brawled. Cas had then carefully ushered everyone out, Jo with blood on her knuckles and Dean standing in the kitchen with blonde hair in his fist and a bloody lip. It had been worth it though; Dean had saved his pie from Jo’s grubby hands. 

Dean is in the middle of a great dream, a dream that certainly did not involve a certain blue-eyed roommate of his and very little clothing, slowly getting closer to no clothing territory when feels his bed shift slightly, ripping him from his unconscious state. He damns himself for shifting just as Cas was finishing his strip tea – just as they were getting to the liturgy of the Eucharist, which was, in fact, Dean’s favorite part of the mass and definitely what he had been dreaming about. Dean has obviously gone to church before, and he certainly didn’t dream about his very male friend.

Dean groans and rolls over, just about to drift back to sleep when – “Are you sure Charlie’s plan is sound, Dean?” 

Dean yelps and flies off the bed, the sheets that his legs had been tangled in coming along for the ride. His arms flail wildly and knock his lamp off the beside-table. He lands on his ass with a dull thud and a loud – very manly, mind you – squeak. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, leaning over the side of the bed to peer at Dean who was now lying on the floor, rather than on his memory foam mattress where he would have loved to be. “Are you alright?”

“Cas! I’ve told you not to come into my bed and talk to me like that in the middle of the night!” Dean complains, rubbing his ass, because, damn, he was going to have one huge bruise on it the next day.

“I was simply wondering about Charlie’s methods of finding your brother. I thought you would be interested in offering your opinion on it.” Cas is looking at him now as if Dean is the crazy one for not wanting to be woken up at – shit! – three thirty-seven in the morning to discuss what they easily could the next day.

“Couldn’t you have “simply wondered” in the morning?” Dean grumbles, getting up off the floor and looking at Cas.

God, Cas looks great sitting in Dean’s bed, and Dean is pretty ashamed to admit how much he loves it. He’s also ashamed to admit how much he desperately wants to curl up next to Cas – maybe he’d even let Cas be the big spoon. He’d wake up in the morning next to Cas and kiss him and would try to get him to have sex – which Cas would protest at first with an eye roll, but would soon give in because, well, he just loves Dean that much. Then, Dean would get up, and it would be his turn to fondly roll his eyes at Cas, who would be too tired to do the same, begging for five more minutes. He would eventually get up, though, once Dean was cooking in the kitchen and he had the promise of eggs and bacon and pancakes, and, fuck, whatever he wanted because Dean would do anything, anything, for Cas. He would enter the kitchen with the blanket still tucked around him, Dean laughing when Cas shoves past him and downs a cup of coffee. Dean would kiss him on the cheek and grope his ass and Cas would blush slightly, tell Dean to knock it off, fill up a second cup of coffee and Dean would – shit. 

Dean is not thinking about this. No, Dean does not want to have disgustingly domestic mornings and breakfasts with his best friend. Absolutely not. It must have just been the dream he had – shit, didn’t have – making him think this way.

Fuck, Dean is so far in denial his counter arguments have counter arguments. In court, a judge would definitely mark him guilty for having a raging hard on for his best friend. But just because Dean could acknowledge that didn’t mean he was going to accept it. It was going to take a lot more than a fake judge and jury to get him to admit how much he wanted Cas – no, didn’t want Cas.

“No,” Cas answers, pulling Dean out of his thoughts. “I may have forgotten by morning.” 

Dean sighs, running a hand over his face. He doesn’t bother responding to that, not even sure what the question was anymore, instead pulling his sheets off the floor and draping them back of the bed where they fall over Cas’s knees. Cas looks at the sheets with an odd expression, one Dean isn’t will to interpret when he hasn’t even gotten his four hours yet. 

Dean climbs back into his bed, trying to ignore the ache in his ass from where he landed on the floor. Cas doesn’t move to get up and Dean doesn’t try to make him; he knows that Cas is waiting for an answer to his question from earlier.

“No,” Dean tells him eventually. “I’m not sure about Charlie’s task force shit, but I am sure that I want Sammy back, and if she can do that… I don’t care how.” Dean closes his eyes, hoping Cas will leave now, but the other man doesn’t so much as twitch next to him.

“You’ll get Sam back,” Cas promises, sounding so sure that Dean almost believes him. While it doesn’t really convince him, it does calm him down. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles. He knows Cas could hear the bitter tone in his voice and can feel Cas shift next to him, but neither of them say anything.

After a moment, Dean feels the mattress lift, indicating that Cas has gotten up off the bed. A part of him, the more vocal part, is glad because now he can finally sleep. Another part of him though, a part that he tries very hard to keep shoved down – which he has been miserably failing at lately – wants to grab Cas and beg him to stay, to tell Dean how Sam will be alright, that Sam will come back, and that Dean isn’t going to lose his brother. He pushes that part down as hard as he can, he doesn’t want Cas, not like that.

Cas pauses at the foot of the bed, as if he is waiting for Dean to ask him to stay, but eventually whispers, “Goodnight, Dean.” He leaves the room so quietly, that Dean doesn’t even know he’s gone until he hears the door closing softly. 

Dean can’t even find it in him to be mad about Cas waking him up. 

\--

The next morning at just shy of nine thirty, Charlie comes prancing in, calling, “Morning, bitches!” her hair still singed at the tips and a huge spool of bright red yarn tucked under her arm. 

Dean is at the stove cooking pancakes while Cas is still in bed; the grump refuses to get up until it’s either noon or Dean coaxes him out with some coffee. Today, though, judging from the loud banging in Cas’s room, he’s been woken up by Charlie’s cheerfulness and isn’t very happy about it. 

“Are those pancakes?” Charlie gasps, rushing over and getting on her tiptoes to see over Dean’s shoulder.

“Make your own damn pancakes,” Dean grumbles teasingly, pushing her away from his shoulder.

“Dean!” Charlie whines, tugging on his arm, but she’s smiling; she already knows that he’s going to make her pancakes.

“Fine,” Dean gives in with a dramatic sigh, and Charlie’s grin becomes wider.

“With chocolate chips?” she asks, already moving to get them from the cabinet, because of course she knows exactly where he hides the chocolate chips from her. If he doesn’t hide them, Charlie will literally put them in anything, but she always manages to find them anyway. He isn’t able to stop from cringing when he remembers the time she put it in her spaghetti. 

One time, years back when Sam had still been living with Dean, he had hidden the chocolate chips in Sam’s underwear drawer, only to come home and find Charlie munching on them and watching Star Trek the next day. He didn’t know how she had found them so fast, and why she was so desperate for chocolate chips that she’d look in Sam’s underwear drawer, but that was Charlie for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, rolling his eyes fondly. Charlie opens her mouth to respond, probably to ask from to just melt the chocolate chips and forget the pancakes, when Cas shuffles in, looking like he’d just gotten into a fight and lost.

He glares at Charlie’s bright demeanor – which Dean can understand, it can be a lot to take in when you’ve just woken up – and heads straight for the coffee, downing an entire cut in less than a minute.

Charlie looks freaked. “I’ve never seen anyone inhale a cup of coffee so fast,” she murmurs to Dean as Cas pours himself a second cup of coffee.

“You want pancakes?” Dean asks, which earns him a grunt that Dean interprets as “Yes, Dean, I would love some, thank you for your kind and generous offer. You’re the best roommate ever.”

Just as Dean is about to grab the pancake mix to start on making some more, he sees that Cas has a blanket tucked around him and is clutching his cup of coffee desperately, as if it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The sight of it causes Dean to remember his fantasy from last night, the one he’d been trying very hard to forget. 

“You okay?” Charlie worries, laying a hand on his still outstretched arm. Dean shakes himself out of his thoughts and nods.

“Yeah, peachy,” Dean mutters, clearing his throat. When Dean looks up again, Cas is gone, the mug sitting on the counter empty. Dean figures that he probably went to take a shower.

Charlie jumps up onto the counter, swinging her legs like a little kid. “The others are gonna be here for a quick meeting in about an hour,” she informs him, still watching him a little worriedly, but knowing better than to prod Dean too much. 

Dean nods absently, once again trying to stop the images of The Domestic Life of Dean and Cas™ from entering back into his brain. 

Charlie must think that his distress has to do with Sam – which, yeah, fair, Dean has been in a constant state of distress about Sam since Wednesday – because she puts her hand back on his arm and assures him, “We’ll find Sam, don’t worry.” 

For some reason, it doesn’t calm him in the same way it did when Cas said it. He tries not to think of why.

\--

“Alright!” Charlie bounces in front of the corkboard – which now has the red yarn pinned up to connect the suspects to Sam – after everyone has arrived. “We’re going to divide into three groups of two and interview the three suspects.” 

“Why would they talk to us?” Meg snorts derisively, back to smoking despite the fire yesterday. Dean is seriously going to have to steal those cigarettes off her.

Charlie gives her The Look, which she only gives to people when they say things that are obviously ridiculous. Once, Dean told her that he didn’t think Kirk and Spock were in love, and she gave him The Look for an entire week and showed him every Star Trek episode that had “evidence” citing long-winded metas about why he was wrong. Safe to say, Dean has learned not to give Charlie the opportunity to use The Look. 

“Don’t worry about that,” is all Charlie says, giving a nod and a smirk to Victor who offers her a thumbs up in response. That probably isn’t good.

“Who are our partners?” Gabe asks, already on his second lollipop of the day. That guy goes through lollipops faster than Dean can eat a slice of his mom’s cherry pie. “I hope mine is you.” He gives Charlie an exaggerated wink and licks his lollipop suggestively. 

Charlie wrinkles her nose in disgust. “First off, ew. Second, no.” She picks up a yard stick that Dean didn’t know was on the floor. He also knows that he doesn’t own a yard stick. He has no clue how it got there, which seems to be happening a lot lately. 

Pointing at Creepy Grocery Dude, she states, “Gabriel, you and Meg are gonna interview him.” Then, at Becky, “Victor and Jo will get her.” She shrugs at them in apology. Lastly, at Mrs. Tate, “Dean and Cas, you guys will do her.”

Dean’s first thought at that is to jump up and yell, “No!” because he does not want to spend more time with Cas than he strictly has to. Honestly, he wants to lock himself in his room, away from Cas, so he can get rid of all the weird feelings and urges he’s been having toward him lately. He can’t repress if he’s being forced to face his problems! Having to deal with his feelings is not the Dean Winchester Way!

Instead, Dean forces a smile on his face and nods. Charlie raises her eyebrows at him, obviously able to see through the smile and into the deadness of his eyes. She turns away, looking as though she is trying very hard not to roll her eyes.

“Why do I have to go with him?” Meg argued, throwing Gabe a glare, or, as Dean likes to call it, her normal facial expression. Gabriel shrinks back slightly, his almost ever present smirk disappearing. 

“You’re the only one who he’s scared of,” Charlie explains, before adding, “Besides Kali.” Gabriel gives an indignant huff at that, but it’s true. The only two people who can get Gabriel to shut up with a glance are Meg and Kali. Kali because she’s his fiancée and he’s whipped, and Meg because if he doesn’t she’ll actually kill him.

“Shouldn’t you be interviewing with Cas instead of Dean?” Jo breaks in, and Dean wants to get up and hug her because yes. Then he realizes why she said that and immediately takes that back because no. 

“Why should Charlie be interviewing with me?” Cas wonders, looking to Jo in confusion.

“Dean-o is a suspect,” Gabriel tells Cas, from where he is now sitting next to him. Unlike yesterday, Gabriel has rooted himself on the loveseat with his legs on Cas while everyone else – aside from Charlie –is seated on the couch. Victor is extremely grateful for the new arrangement, and Dean is as well, because now he is a safe distance from Cas, and the further from Cas he is the better.

“Why?” Cas asks, looking even more confused. 

“We think he may have been the one to kidnap Sam because of his unhealthy dependence on him,” Victor explains, and Dean throws him a glare. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas says, his eyes squinting. Ha, Dean thinks, at least Cas is on my side. “If anything, I believe Dean would be more likely to kill Sam, due to his aggressive nature.” 

Wait, what.

“>i>What?” Dean yelps because kidnapping was one thing, but now he’s being accused of murder? By Cas? His now ex best friend? Cas just looks at Dean, clearly not giving two shits that he’s just accused his best friend of murder.

“If Dean were to kidnap Sam,” Cas continues, as if Dean isn’t even here, “Sam would be angry and unwilling to stay with Dean. He would probably beg Dean to let him go despite how many times Dean would tell him no. Dean would become angry and aggressive and would accidentally kill Sam, being left with a dead body, which he may enjoy even more, due to its lack of begging to be set free. Depending on his mental state, he may even think that Sam is still alive.” 

“You’re right,” Victor agrees, “I never thought of that.” The others are nodding along as well, Victor even side eyeing him suspiciously.

Dean can’t believe this. He honestly can’t believe that he is being accused of murder by his own friends, the murder of his own brother, who he has come to them for help in finding. And not even just his friends, but Cas, too? 

Dean isn’t entirely sure why he just put Cas in a different category than friend, but now is definitely not the time or place to be thinking of this.

“However,” Cas says, “I doubt that Dean has actually murdered Sam, as he would smell of a rotting body by now. It would probably be safe to say that Dean is not the culprit.” 

All right, Dean is retracting his earlier statement. Cas is definitely still his best friend, even if he was accusing him of murder two minutes ago. 

Charlie seems to consider this, before reluctantly removing the DEAN paper off the corkboard, and taking off the red yarn.

“I’m still watching you,” Charlie warns, pointing a finger in Dean’s direction.

Yeah, Cas definitely gets back his best friend status. 

“I still think it’s him,” Meg mutters lowly, and before Dean can comment – she is sitting right next to him, for fuck’s sake – continues, louder, “Aren’t you going to explain how Gabe and I are going to get Douchebag Grocer to talk to us?”

Charlie nods absently. “You’re going to pretend to work for the FBI.” She rummages through one of the bags she had apparently brought with her and tosses Meg and Gabe each a fake badge, both of them catching it unconcernedly.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Cas asks once he notices that Meg and Gabe certainly aren’t opposed to the idea. 

Dean wishes that Cas hadn’t mentioned it; he’s hoping that Meg and Gabe will be caught pretending to be FBI and go to jail for the rest of their lives. It would be like killing two birds with one stone; both of Dean’s least favorite people would be gone, and Dean wouldn’t even have to have done anything to make it happen.

“It’s only illegal if you get caught, Clarence,” Meg quips, throwing Cas a smirk.

This is why Dean hates Meg. Call him protective, or whatever, but she constantly looks at Cas like she’s going to eat him. If Cas weren’t gay, Dean would have to go everywhere with them just to make sure Meg didn’t jump him or something. Cas is gay and Dean still feels like he needs to watch Meg. Cas insists that Meg has nothing but platonic feelings for him and would never try to “jump him”, but Dean still isn’t so sure. 

For the record, this is not Dean being jealous. He is merely being protective over his best friend who lacks experience in anything involving sex or romance. And besides, Dean would easily have a better chance with Cas than Meg ever could, anyway, considering what he’s packing and she isn’t. If anyone should be jealous of anyone, it’s Meg of Dean. 

Not that Dean wants that type of – you know what? Whatever. He’s sick of constantly trying to defend himself. It’s getting more pathetic than the thoughts he’s been having. 

He doesn’t even have to defend himself, he knows he’s as straight as –

 _—one of those bendable pencils?_ a voice in the back of Dean’s mind, the one that Dean keeps shoving down, only for it to resurface even more forcefully, supplies. 

Dean’s just going to be the bigger man here and ignore it.

“It’s illegal either way, Meg,” Cas protests, and Dean bristles. Okay, maybe Cas saying Meg’s name makes him a little jealous, but it’s only because he – alright, he doesn’t even have an excuse for this one.

This whole denial thing is a real bitch; Dean would definitely not recommend it.

“Gotta agree with Meg here, bro,” Gabriel pipes up with a fake apologetic shrug. “It’s like that tree falling in the forest thing. If you aren’t caught breaking the law have you really broken the law?” 

“Yes!” Cas insists, but it falls on deaf ears because Charlie breaks in to ask, “Victor you brought one of your coworker’s uniforms for Jo to wear, right?”

Victor nods while Jo looks confused. “Why do I need a police uniform?”

“You’re gonna tell Becky you joined the force,” Victor explains. “You know how unwilling to talk she is, and she’ll be even less willing if she doesn’t really think it’s a police investigation.” 

Cas sighs. “This is also breaking the law,” he points out. 

Victor grins. “I am the law,” he responds, giving Cas a wink, which makes Cas blush heavily. 

Dean – wait, wait, hold on. Which makes Cas blush heavily? What the fuck? 

Dean doesn’t know why Cas would blush at Victor winking at him. He also doesn’t know why he can’t stop himself from leveling Victor with a glare. He does know that he doesn’t like any of this one bit.

“Dean, calm down,” Jo whispers to him, patting his knee. She’s giving him a questioning look, one that clearly says she has as little of an idea of why Dean is glaring at Victor as Dean does. Dean manages to tear his gaze away from Victor and turns it onto the floor. There’s a lot to glare at there, it’s singed from the fire and yet is still covered in that god awful glitter. 

“Cas and Dean, you guys can just be yourselves, since Mrs. Tate knows Dean. Try to see what you can get out of her over tea and cookies.” Charlie nods to herself, satisfied that she’s gone over everyone’s parts.

“What about you?” Jo asks. “You haven’t given yourself anything to do.”

Charlie rolls a piece of her now short hair between her fingers regrettably. “I need to get a haircut. Burnt hair is not great to look at.” She frowns for a second before visibly brightening, asking, “You guys ready?”

Everyone nods, getting up from their seats on the couches – or the couch and a charred love seat – to get ready to leave for their interrogations.

Charlie grabs Dean’s elbow as he’s about to pass, heading for the door so he and Cas could leave. He looks at her questioningly, not knowing why she’d stopped him.

“You know Cas doesn’t have a thing for Victor, right?” she reassures lowly, giving him a serious look. Dean shifts uncomfortably, and Charlie takes it as a “no”. “Well, he doesn’t. He’s too hung up on you to even notice anyone else.” Dean feels like he just got the air punched out of him.

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Dean exclaims a little too loudly, as everyone turns to look at him curiously. He clears his throat and lower, repeats, “ _What_?”

Charlie looks surprised. “You don’t –? Dude, Cas is like, head over heels for you. He looks at you like Leia looks at Han Solo, a combined look of exasperation and adoration. It’s really gross, honestly.” She raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t noticed?” 

Dean needs to leave, like now. He can’t have Charlie pushing this on him, he doesn’t need it. If Cas does have a thing for him, Dean definitely doesn’t want to know about it. He already has enough on his plate with Sam’s disappearance; he doesn’t need Cas’s big gay feelings for him on it, too.

Dean wrenches his arm out of Charlie’s hand and stalks towards the door, jerking his head towards it as a sign for Cas to follow him, not stopping to wait for him. When Dean’s almost to the elevator, Cas catches up.

“Dean?” Cas worries, touching his arm. “Are you–?”

“Don’t,” Dean growls, pushing the button for the elevator forcefully. When he sees Cas’s concerned look, his anger deflates. 

“Dean,” Cas tries again, but Dean once again isn’t having it.

“Don’t call me that,” Dean snaps, rubbing a hand over his face. He can’t stand the way Cas says his name, as if he’s something precious that he treasures greatly. It’s too damn much, especially now, what with what Charlie told him. Cas’s concern turns into confusion.

“Your name?” Cas asks, looking for clarification. He tilts his head endearingly and, fuck, Dean seriously just can’t deal with this. 

“Yes,” Dean hisses, stepping into the elevator immediately once it opens, giving a muttered apology to Lisa from three doors down when he almost barrels her over. 

This is not well thought on Dean’s part, however, as once Cas steps into the elevator after him, it’s just the two of them in an extremely small amount of space. Dean can feel the tension in the air, practically thick enough to cut.

“What do you want me to call you, then?” Cas inquires, looking at Dean with his stupid fucking too blue eyes. No one should have eyes that blue, it shouldn’t be possible, and especially not Cas, not when he could turn them on Dean and make him melt like ice left in the sun.

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs, desperately wanting to get out of the elevator, “something that guys usually call their friends by.” The doors open and Dean rushes out, Cas following closely behind.

“Men normally don’t call each other by their names?” Cas concludes, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. 

“No,” Dean tells him, unconsciously holding the door open for Cas when they leave the lobby and head out to the street. “They call each other “bro” or “dude”.” Dean opens the door to the impala, closing the door a little too harshly than he means to. He pats the dashboard lovingly in apology.

“You’d rather me call you “bro”?” Cas establishes once he gets in, closing the door much softer than Dean had, but he still sounds confused. Dean doesn’t blame him: telling Cas not to call him by his name sounds stupid as fuck, but Dean just can’t handle it anymore.

He doesn’t have feelings for Cas, okay? He just doesn’t. But Cas is making it harder and harder for Dean to convince himself of that. 

“Yes, okay? Do that,” Dean mutters, starting the car up, the familiar purr of his baby starting up soothing him slightly. 

“Alright… bro,” Cas says, the term sounding alien coming from him.

Dean turns on the radio, putting the volume up so high that there’s not even a remote chance of them continuing this conversation. Dean keeps his eyes firmly on the road the whole way.

\--

The ride to Mrs. Tate’s only takes forty minutes, which was twenty minutes less than Dean had been expecting. While Lawrence is only about forty-five minutes away from Kansas City, which is where Dean and Cas live, there’s usually always traffic. Dean is extremely thankful that there was none this time.

By the time they get there, Dean doesn’t think he can stand another second in the awkward tension that his filled the impala, even if the radio has drowned out any chance of conversation. The silence is probably what made the trip even worse, honestly.

The second Dean parks in front of Sam and Jess’s house, he jumps out of the car, happy to be in the fresh air. It’s strange, given that Dean usually loves riding in his baby, not wanting to get out, just longing to keep driving until he runs out of gas or he can’t anymore. 

It seems Dean’s weird, gay thoughts are ruining more than just his weekend, but his entire life, too.

Once Cas gets out of the car, they head to the house next door and up to the porch in the same stony silence they had in the car. Before Dean can knock, Cas interrupts.

“Dean,” Cas starts, then noticing Dean’s look, corrects, “Bro.”

Dean sighs. “What is it, man?” Now really isn’t the time for Cas to be trying to have a heart to heart with him, although Dean hasn’t given him much of a choice, what with how loud he was blasting Metallica in the car. They are two large men on an old lady’s porch in Kansas; she may come out with a shotgun and pump them full of lead or something. That isn’t exactly on Dean’s to do list. 

“I want to know –” Cas begins, but no way is Dean going to let him go there, so he cuts Cas off by knocking on the door.

If Dean suddenly decides he wants to go through with his big gay thoughts, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have to grovel to Cas first, given the way he’s been treating him for the day. 

Good thing he has no plans of doing that anytime soon.

Mrs. Tate answers the door, her gray hair in a neat bun and wearing a bright pink sweater. She smiles at Dean when she sees him, looking more excited than he thought she would about the company.

“Dean!” she greets, pulling him into a hug. Dean squeaks – it’s a manly squeak – in surprise, his eyes going wide. He raises one arm to awkwardly pat her on the back, the other hanging limply by his side. He’s pretty sure he can hear Cas let out a quiet laugh behind him, the asshole. 

Yeah, Dean’s pretty damn sure she didn’t kidnap his brother. If anything, she’d have him wrapped up in five blankets on her sofa, drinking hot chocolate and eating cookies.

“And who might this be?” she asks once she stops holding Dean in the bear trap that is her arms. She gives Cas a warm smile, that Cas easily returns. It doesn’t make Dean melt around the edges, if anything it’s just the sun. It does have that effect on people.

Hold on, earlier he had compared Cas to the sun, hadn’t he? This has nothing to do with that, that was not him subtextually referring to Cas in a roundabout way of saying that Cas does actually make him melt, because he does, in fact, not.

“I’m Castiel Novak,” Cas introduces, holding out his hand. Mrs. Tate is having none of that though, pulling Cas by his arm and into a hug. Cas remains ramrod straight – just like Dean’s sexuality, thank you very much – obviously uncomfortable with this strange old lady he’s never met hugging him so forcefully.

Dean pointedly lets out a snicker because he’s an asshole and two can play at this game.

When Mrs. Tate finally lets go, she steps back from the door, saying, “Come in! Come in!” ushering them inside. Dean and Cas share a look, despite the tension that has been between them, before heading in. 

“You have a lovely home,” Cas offers, and Dean is always surprised by how polite Cas is, even though he’s possibly the most socially awkward person on the planet. 

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Tate responds, giving Cas a thankful smile. She leads them into the kitchen – which has a horrifying amount of pink things in it, including a pink, ceramic cat – and motions for them to sit down at the table while she begins to make some tea, not even asking if they want any. Dean’s pretty sure if they declined she’d force them to drink, anyways. 

“What brings you boys over?” she asks, opening her cabinet and pulling out a plate. She pulls the head off the pink cat and empties it – Dean is both shocked and mildly aroused when he sees that it’s a cookie jar and she has five other ones, too – onto the plate, and puts the plate on the table in front of the two men.

“We wanted to know if you’ve seen Sam,” Dean informs her, reaching out to grab a cookie. Cas purses his lips and slaps his hand once Mrs. Tate turns her back.

“Sorry, dear, from what I’ve seen, him and his wife haven’t been home in days,” she tells him.  
“Although, it is strange; they usually ask me to watch their dog.” She shrugs, pulling out three mugs from the same cabinet she had gotten the plate from.

Dean sits up a little straighter; Sam taking his dog with him was out of character. He exchanges a look with Cas, who seems to have the same train of thought as Dean.

“He didn’t ask you to watch it?” Dean asks, trying to keep his tone casual. He must be being too obvious because Cas kicks him under the table. Or maybe Cas just enjoys hurting him, it could go either way.

“No,” Mrs. Tate confirms absently, looking in her drawers for something. She turns around and takes in the untouched plate of cookies on the table, her eyes narrowing.

“Eat, eat!” she insists, pushing the plate closer to Dean.

Dean can’t help eying the plate of delicious looking cookies, unconsciously licking his lips. Cas kicks him again, giving him a look over the table that clearly says, “We’re here to find your brother, not to eat cookies.” Which, okay, yeah, and if she is the kidnapper, they could be poisoned or whatever, but they look so damn good.

“No, thank you, ma’am,” Cas rejects politely, giving her a sincere smile that Dean hates. “We just ate lunch before we stopped by.”

“I insist, please, have some,” she urges, giving them both that sweet old lady smile that’s practically impossible to resist. Dean immediately grabs a cookie, and even though Cas lets out a small sigh, he picks one up as well.

She looks satisfied seeing them eat, and gives Dean a knowing smile that he has no clue how to interpret. She leans close to him and says, “Your boyfriend is so polite, he’s a real keeper.” The she adds, “And quite handsome, too.” She gives Dean a wink before heading to attend to the tea, which had just finished.

Dean can feel his eyes widening comically, can practically hear the intense music playing, and see the dramatic zoom in on his face that would be present if this were a movie. He starts choking on his cookie, because what? What? Cas? His boyfriend? Why? No? How?

How could she think this? Was his artfully perfected Straight Dude persona not as good as Dean thought it was? Did he just have something gay about him? Was it Cas? Did Cas make Dean seem gay? Shit.

Cas gives him a funny look, obviously not having heard what Mrs. Tate said to him and thinking Dean is just choking on a cookie for the hell of it.

Dean clears his throat, stopping himself from dying by cookie – which at the moment, may have been preferable to continuing on with life. Mrs. Tate gives him a smile as she sets a mug in front of him and pours him some tea, and Dean smiles back, trying to hide the panic that her comment has sent him into.

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that if he really did believe he was straight, he wouldn’t be panicking so much right now. 

Dean tries to quell the roaring frenzy that his mind has gone into, but it’s no use. His thoughts are nothing but a loud screaming of “GAY GAY GAY” on endless repeat that can’t be stopped. Dean’s doomed to living in a gay hell forever.

Dean is just staring down at his mug in horror as his thoughts are taken over in a coup d’état by the tiny voice in his brain that he’s been trying to push down. It’s over. The side of him screaming “gay” has won.

Cas kicks Dean under the table once again, and when Dean looks up at him, it’s like an air horn goes off in his head. He winces and grabs the mug of tea, downing it as a distraction. He can feel his face turning bright red.

The doorbell rings and Mrs. Tate jumps up from where she must have sat down while Dean was having the prelude to his soon coming gay – or was it bi? Stay tuned for the actual panic, coming soon to theaters near you – panic, apologizing and telling them she’d be back in a moment. 

“Would you like to be bad cop?” Cas asks, sipping from the tea in front of him, looking totally unconcerned about the fact that Dean’s insides were melting. 

“What?” Dean splutters. He has no idea what Cas is talking about, not because of the endless screaming inside of his head. That isn’t at all impairing him in any way.

“Good cop or bad cop?” Cas says, then, like Dean doesn’t know what it is, “It’s when two people in an investigation take on opposite personalities in order to coax the suspect into telling the truth. The good –” He breaks off once Dean holds up the hand that isn’t currently rubbing at his temple in an attempt to soothe the repressed part of his brain that’s taken over. It isn’t working.

“I know what that is,” Dean snaps, because honestly, this is all Cas’s fault with his stupid face, and his too blue eyes, and his hair that looks like he’s just had some great sex, and goddamn would Dean love to be the one to muss it up like that while he – no. No. Despite what Dean’s head may be screaming at him very violently, he does not, in fact, feel that way for Cas, or for any man, for that matter. He is strictly into chicks; he always has been and he always will be. 

Cas’s eyes narrow slightly at Dean’s tone. “I’m assuming this means that you would like to be bad cop?” he says, his voice icy.

Dean sighs, which he feels like he’s been doing a lot lately. “Whatever you want, man.”

Something about Dean’s answer makes Cas stop to ask, “Are you alright, De—bro?” He’s frowning, but his eyes are wide, as if they’re prompting Dean to open up to them.

Well, no dice. “I’m fine,” Dean responds in a true Winchester fashion. Cas gives him a knowing look. “I said I’m fine, ogay?” 

Cas looks at him for a very long moment before Dean realizes what he just said. He feels his stomach drop. This truly is the worst weekend of Dean’s life, and he’s not even over exaggerating. 

“Did you just say—” Cas begins slowly, but Dean immediately cuts him off with, “I said okay.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced, but he doesn’t prod Dean any further, which Dean is thankful for. Next he’ll be saying he’s “bine”. 

“I’ll be good cop,” Dean blurts when Cas just continues to stare at him. He hopes Cas forgets this conversation ever happened, but from the look Cas is giving him, his hopes are very farfetched.

“Alright,” Cas agrees, but he’s still giving Dean that same look, and all Dean wants to do is wipe it off his face.

You should kiss him, his mind offers, and wow, Dean really wishes that the repressed part of him hadn’t taken over during his temporary brain malfunction because it’s a real asshole.

Kissing Cas isn’t even an option, though, because Mrs. Tate returns, giving the men a pleased smile when she notices that all the cookies are gone.

Dean may have forgotten to mention that this entire time he has been stress eating the cookies. Maybe that had been why Cas kept kicking him.

Cas gives Dean a nod and, ignoring his headache – and oncoming stomachache, he had way too may cookies – he springs into action.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen Sam?” Dean asks nonchalantly, causing Mrs. Tate to give him a rueful smile.

“I’m so sorry, dear, but I can’t help you,” she responds, and Dean feels a little bad, she looks like she’s really sorry. He also feels a little like she’s about to turn into a huge snake named Nagini and try to eat them.

Cas is suddenly standing, slamming his hands on the table, causing Dean’s mug of tea to jump and fall over. Dean realizes with a start that letting Cas be bad cop was probably a downright awful idea.

“Where did you take Sam?” Cas yells, making Mrs. Tate look like she’s about to faint.

“I – I didn’t –” she stutters, before Cas interrupts with more shouted accusations.

Dean should be talking Cas down, because shit, this is not going like it should, but he can’t.

He can’t because as he sits there watching Cas yell obscenities at an old lady, he realizes that he is absolutely, undeniably in love with him.

So yeah, Dean’s already pretty damn screwed.  
 


	4. Chapter 4

They’re back in the impala, Dean holding a tray of cookies in his hands and Cas holding his face in his. 

“You’re lucky she’s forgiving,” Dean says around a cookie he snuck from the packaging. Cas just shakes his head. Dean’s pretty sure if he could see Cas’s face, he’d be looking mortified right now.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Cas moans, his voice muffled from his face being pressed into his hands.

Dean definitely doesn’t want to say the real answer, so he goes for the asshole route instead. “I thought it was funny.” Cas’s response is to call Dean an asshole, so at least he can treasure the irony of that.

Dean shoves the cookies into the back seat, starts up the car, and sets out back to Kansas City. Cas still has his face in his hands, and Dean figures that he’ll be that way for a while. 

Once Dean finally admitted to himself that he’s in love with Cas, he thought he would go into a panic like he did earlier, but instead he feels calm – not in a good way, though, more like the calm before the storm kind of calm. He knows in a few minutes he’s going to be struck by his actual gay panic, but for now he wants to treasure the fact that he’s on the road, in his baby, and sitting next to the man he’s in love with. It’s quite nice, once he forgets the situation and the fact that his entire life is being burned away and quickly reforming into something a lot different than it used to be. But maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

Or maybe it is, Dean suddenly thinks, the panic finally setting in. He was happy the way he was before. He liked being the poster boy for heterosexuality; he liked having no strings attached flings with any hot chick he could find at his local bar on Thursday evenings. He didn’t want to be in love with somebody, especially not a dude. Dean didn’t do long-term relationships, and he didn’t do dudes, plain and simple.

But the first part wasn’t completely true. Dean has done a long-term relationship. He was with Cassie Robinson from when he was eighteen to twenty-two, loved her even, during that time. She had broken his heart when she left him, and to this day, he still wishes that she hadn’t, wishes there was something he could have done to stop her from leaving. 

And don’t think the irony of his first love being Cassie and him now being in love with Cas was lost on him because it wasn’t. His life rather seems like one big heaping pile of irony at the moment.

God, Dean can’t do this. He can’t be in love with Cas because he’s not into guys. He likes chicks, and big tits, and soft, warm bodies, and small hands. Cas isn’t any of those, he’s tall with lean muscles, and large, sturdy hands. How can Dean love somebody so different from what he always believed he wanted?

“Bro!” Cas yelps suddenly, pulling Dean out of his thoughts and causing him to slam on the breaks just in time to avoid hitting the SUV in front of him. If Dean weren’t so riled up from having almost died, he would complement Cas on finally calling him “bro” without hesitation. 

This is just what Dean needed, an almost accident and dead stop traffic. And to top it all off, he’s in the car with exactly the person he’d love to avoid for the next week and a half until he gets used to the whole being in love thing. Of course the universe can’t even let him have that.

Dean looks at Cas who’s staring at him with a shocked expression, as if Dean just said everything he was thinking out loud. Before Dean can ask, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. Since the traffic is at a dead stop, Dean has no problem pulling his phone out. 

“Who is it?” Cas asks, the ringing having broken him out of his reverie. 

“Charlie,” Dean answers, putting the phone on speaker and placing it in between the two of them. 

“What’s up, Charles?” Dean greets. He doesn’t want to think about how much has changed since the last time he spoke to her. “How was the haircut?”

“Enlightening,” she responds giddily. “I look great. Dorothy is totally going to be worried about other girls trying to pick me up. Maybe now she’ll finally ask me out.”

Dorothy is a friend of Charlie’s who often goes LARPing with her and Dean. The two of them have been pining for each other for a while, and Charlie’s waiting for her to get the guts to ask her out. Dean thinks she should just make the first move, but Charlie insists that as the queen, she needs to be the one asked. Dean has learned not to argue with that logic.

“Good for you,” Dean says lightly, not at all giving away how much panicking he’s done in the time since he left.

“Getting back to business, there was nothing on Becky or Crowley – sorry, he’s the guy who works at the grocery store, or worked, after today. Becky had a solid alibi and, turns out, Crowley actually ran a red room, like one of those websites on the internet where they torture people on a live stream and hightailed it once he saw Gabe and Meg’s FBI badges. Long story, but the real FBI have him now, and when they checked out his place, there was no sign of Sam,” Charlie informs him, talking so fast that she barely takes a breath between sentences. “What about you guys?”

“Nothing on our front,” Dean tells her, trying not to feel disappointed that there was no trace of Sam. “What do we do now?” 

Charlie sighs. “Onto Plan C, then.” Dean can hear her digging through her bag, probably looking for her book. “I’ll tell you guys about it when you get here. How long will that be?”

Dean looks over at Cas, who is on his own phone, fumbling around to find out about the traffic. Dean assumes he finds it when he scrunches his nose in distaste. That certainly isn’t good.

“Probably not for at least two hours,” Cas relays. “There’s been a bad accident on the I-70, closing three lanes.” He looks up from his phone and at Dean. “That isn’t good, bro.” 

“You think?” Dean grouses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Charlie, you’re gonna have to go on without us on this one.”

“I think so,” Charlie agrees, but she doesn’t sound too upset about it. “It’s not a big deal, Plan C is just putting up posters, so.” Dean can picture her shrugging as if she’s standing right in front of him. “It’s not an all hands on deck situation, it’ll be fine. I’ll keep you guys posted.” 

Just when Dean thinks Charlie’s going to hang up, she suddenly exclaims, “Hold up! Cas, did you just call Dean “bro”?” She sounds like she’s trying very hard not to laugh, but Dean hears a giggle slip through.

“Yes,” Cas confirms, looking unperturbed. Dean hopes he doesn’t mention the fact that Dean asked him to do so, because Charlie will definitely have a field day with that. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all,” Charlie giggles. “Just doesn’t sound like something you’d do.” 

“Dean asked me to,” Cas explains, and yeah, of course he says exactly what Dean doesn’t want him to. Not that Dean can actually blame him, given that Dean never told him not to mention Dean’s hand in Cas’s new name for him.

“Did he?” Now Charlie’s full out laughing, probably with the whole works, clutching her side, gasping for air. Dean hates her, honestly he does.

Dean mutters something about “annoying little sisters who just won’t let me live a goddamn day” before he hangs up on her, since she’s probably passed out from laughter or something. 

He pockets his phone and leans his head against the window; they’ve only moved about three feet the entire time they were on the phone with Charlie. This is just Dean’s luck.

The car in front of him moves up three and a half inches, and since Dean doesn’t want to be up the guy’s ass completely, he neglects to move up as well. He also neglected to form a denial about how he doesn’t want to be up Cas’s ass, so maybe he’s finally learning. 

“D – Bro,” Cas suddenly says. Dean looks at him with raised eyebrows, lifting his head off the window slightly. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting strange for the past few days.” 

Dean puts his head back on the window harder than strictly necessary, closing his eyes. He’s going to regret banging his head later, that’s for sure.

“I told you I was fine, man,” Dean grounds out because, honestly, he’s getting sick of Cas worrying about his well being. It’s not an attractive feature of his. “This whole thing with Sam has been getting to me, I guess.”

Cas looks at him for a long moment before pointing out, “You’re only acting differently around me.” Well, he certainly has Dean there.

It’s not like Dean can just turn to Cas and tell him he’s in love with him. That’s not how it works, and Dean isn’t even sure he wants that, anyways. He also can’t tell Cas that he caused his gay awakening that sent him into a panic that no man has ever felt before. 

Instead, Dean just mumbles, “I don’t know what to tell you.” Dean opens his eyes to see the car in front of him moving slightly, and this time Dean moves with it.

Cas stays silent next to him. When Dean looks over, he’s staring out the window like the man in the yellow Lamborghini next to them holds all the answers he’s looking for. Dean doubts he does; the guy doesn’t even have the door to the car closed. 

Dean knows he’s been being awful to Cas. It’s hard for him not to be, when he’s the cause of all of Dean’s repressed feelings and thoughts surfacing and demanding to be dealt with. But it isn’t Cas’s fault that Dean is in love with him. And it’s definitely not his fault that he doesn’t know how to deal with it. It seems even spiraling into a wild panic like he thought he would, and even began to earlier, isn’t going to cut it this time. Maybe, he just needs to own up.

But he’s Dean Winchester, and owning up, especially to his feelings, is not something he does. So instead of apologizing to Cas, or telling him how he feels, he just lets the silence engulf them.

\--

Twenty-two minutes and forty-three seconds later – don’t judge Dean for counting, it’s not like he has anything else to do – Dean finally breaks. They haven’t moved more than two miles the entire time, and Dean can’t stand the complete silence anymore. 

This is probably where a normal person would turn to Cas and hash things out, offer an apology, and get on the same page. But Dean is not a normal person, and he is not going to talk to Cas about his feelings, or whatever shit. That’s Sam’s thing, and Sam’s not here.

Dean reaches over and turns on the radio so loudly that the car shakes slightly with it. Cas looks over at him with wide eyes, clearly not understanding why Dean is trying to break his eardrums.

Cas tries to say something but Dean can’t hear him over the music. At Dean’s blank look, Cas tries again, but it’s no use.

“I can’t hear you,” Dean tells him, but he can’t even hear himself say it, so there’s no way Cas heard. He was stating the obvious anyways, so it’s not like it really matters.

He can tell Cas is saying, “What?” by the movement of his mouth. Dean rolls his eyes, then notices that Cas is trying to turn the volume down. He slaps his hand away.

He sees Cas say, “Bro!” but he’s not budging on this one. He’d tell Cas what he tells Sam when it comes to music in the car, but Cas wouldn’t hear him so it would be useless.

 

Dean’s glad that his eardrums are practically being destroyed by Led Zepp. Now, he doesn’t have to think about his problems or even have to deal with them at all. Sure, his ears aren’t very happy about it, but he’d rather be in pain than talk or think about his feelings, so he’ll deal.

Cas tries to turn the music off again, and this time, instead of swatting his hand, he grabs Cas’s hand in his own. He doesn’t mean to do it, it just sort of happens, and now that it has, Dean isn’t quite sure how to stop it.

Cas is staring down at where their hands are intertwined, looking slightly shocked. Dean is, too, and he wishes he could let go, but his hand isn’t listening to what his brain is saying. The music seems to lower as Dean stares at their hands and tries not to think how well they fit together. 

“Bro –” Cas starts, but is cut off by the loud horn from the car behind them. Apparently, the traffic has moved up two feet and the guy is in a real big rush. Asshole.

But the honking does the trick; Dean’s hand springs out of Cas’s and back onto the wheel. Cas’s hand stays suspended in the air for about thirty seconds before Cas realizes that Dean isn’t holding it anymore, and he places it in his lap.

After Dean moves up the two feet, he notices that the music has actually lowered and that it wasn’t just his mind pushing it into the background. 

He looks over at Cas. “Did you lower the music?” he questions, narrowing his eyes when Cas just shrugs. “You took advantage of my distraction to lower it!”

Cas turns to him, their eyes meeting, and asks innocently, “Why were you distracted?”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes several times, unable to answer the question. Cas’s lips uptick in the slightest smirk, the bastard, and Dean makes a growling sound, looking away from Cas and back out the windshield, both hands gripping hard on the steering wheel. 

When Dean looks at Cas next, about five minutes later, Cas is smiling.

\--

The traffic finally subsides after a long half hour, and Dean is incredibly glad for it. He desperate needs to get back to their apartment and lock himself in his room for twelve hours just to get away from Cas. Then, he’ll go to a bar, hook up with a woman, and the whole being in love with his male best friend thing will just go away.

Next to him, Cas has his head leaned against the window, watching the scenery fly by as Dean drives way too fast down the highway. Something in Dean’s chest aches at the sight, but he doesn’t know why. 

Dean tries to keep his gaze focused on the road, but he can’t help but flick his eyes towards Cas every now and then. Cas’s presence is like a beacon to him; he feels drawn to him no matter how hard he tries to resist. 

It’s that thought that makes Dean realize that some faceless chick and a one-night stand isn’t going to make Dean stop loving Cas. Somewhere along the way, in the twenty plus years that they’ve known each other, loving Cas became part of who he was, just in a different way than he had once thought. 

Fuck, Dean’s twenty-nine years old, and he still can’t come to terms with who he is. He remembers Cas coming out to him when they were sixteen, he remembers Charlie doing the same less than a year later, he remembers how brave they were to do that, especially in the early 2000s in fucking Kansas, at a school where the terms “fag” and “gay” were thrown around like it was nothing. And now, thirteen years later, Dean can’t muster up the courage to do what they did, despite the fact he wouldn’t be judged anywhere nearly as harshly as the two of them were by teenage dicks. This is fucking pathetic. 

Dean stays lost in thought for the entire rest of the drive, thinking about how he needs to own up. When they get in the elevator to get to their fifth floor apartment, Cas keeps throwing Dean worried looks, probably because Cas has tried several times to initiate a conversation and Dean hasn’t responded to any of them. 

When they enter the apartment, Dean stops near the coffee table, while Cas closes the door. He frowns down at the mess of soot and sparkles on the floor, and fights down the overwhelming urge to clean it. Dean doesn’t even notice when Cas stops next to him, giving the room a matching frown. 

“We’ll need to buy new furniture,” Cas says, causing Dean to jump. After a pause, Cas adds, “That is, if you’d like to continue living together.” That completely startles Dean out of his daze.

“What?” Dean asks, turning to look at Cas, shocked that he would think that Dean didn’t want to live with him.

“You’ve been acting rather distant lately,” Cas explains, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “You haven’t been acting different around anyone, aside from me, so I assumed that I have done something to make you angry, and that you would no longer be comfortable living with me.” Dean tries to break in, but Cas continues, “It’s alright, D – bro, I understand.”

Cas moves to step away, but Dean grabs his arm before he can. How is Dean supposed to tell Cas that the problem isn’t that Dean dislikes him, it’s that Dean likes him a little too much? 

“Shit, Cas, no,” is the stunning protest Dean comes up with. That one really cleared things up. His mind will probably get an award for best on the spot thinker.

Cas looks at Dean for a second, before looking away and biting his lip. “As I said, it’s fine, bro.” Cas keeps stoically looking at the floor. 

Fuck, Dean shouldn’t have let this happen. Dean’s whole denial bullshit has hurt Cas and there’s nothing he can do about it. He can’t tell Cas how he feels, he can’t. 

“Shit,” Dean repeats, and his traitorous brain hadn’t gotten the earlier memo about the whole “he can’t tell Cas” thing that was literally five minutes ago, because he does exactly what he hadn’t intended to do.

Dean lifts his hand that isn’t grasping Cas’s arm to lift Cas’s face, so their eyes meet, and he cups Cas’s cheek carefully. Cas’s eyes are wide, not sure about what Dean’s going to do and probably considering making a run for it.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, his other hand drifting up Cas’s arm and curling around Cas’s other cheek. 

He leans forward, brushing his nose lightly against Cas’s. Cas tilts his head slightly in response, lifting his chin just enough that their lips brush together. Dean takes this as the go ahead to press their lips together softly, one of his hands moving from Cas’s cheek to slip through his already messy hair. Dean has been repressing the urge to muss up Cas’s hair for years, he’s not going to let this opportunity get away from him.

They kiss gently for a moment, the kiss barely even chaste. But that doesn’t matter because Dean’s heart is pounding in his chest, which Cas can probably feel, as his hands have curled themselves in Dean’s shirt, his right hand directly over Dean’s heart. He lets himself forget all the worries he’s had, all the doubts and uncertainties, and lets himself get lost in the feeling of kissing Cas. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorites. 

When Dean pulls away for air – because, fuck, he’s just gotten acquainted with the idea of being attracted to other men, but he’d gladly kiss Cas until he drops – he brushes his thumb along Cas’s cheek slowly, feeling the burn of stubble underneath the pad of his fingertip. It’s different than he’s used to, not a bad different, though. It’s good; it’s really fucking good.

Cas’s eyes are still closed as he breathes, “Bro…” Dean chuckles lowly, still stroking his thumb back and forth across Cas’s cheekbone.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Dean tells him quietly, afraid that any noise will break them out of the moment. Cas’s eyes open slowly, giving Dean a slightly dazed but miffed look.

“You told me to,” he points out, “and you were very insistent about it, as well.” He’s got Dean there, and because Dean really doesn’t want to explain that the way Cas says his name makes him weak in the knees – just because Dean knows that he’s in love with Cas, isn’t going to turn Dean into a huge softie, he’s still very macho, alright? – Dean brings their lips back together in another kiss.

This one is more heated than last time, their lips brushing together harder rather than the almost barely there caressing that they had been doing before.

Dean separates their lips just enough to murmur, “I was being stupid.” He connects them back together, nibbling at Cas’s lower lip and palming at his hips as he guides the other man backward towards the couch.

“Why?” Cas wonders, pulling away from Dean almost completely, ignoring the dissatisfied groan that comes from Dean.

“Not a great time to talk, Cas,” Dean mutters, pushing Cas back onto the not burnt couch so that he’s sprawled across it. Dean settles himself on top of him, grabbing Cas’s left leg and hooking it over his hip.

Cas disagrees about not talking, apparently. “I don’t see why –” The rest of his sentence is muffled by Dean’s lips, as Dean dips down to kiss him hard.

Cas finally gives up with a sigh against Dean’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling arm closer. The heel of Cas’s shoe is digging painfully into Dean’s lower back, but Dean doesn’t mind; kissing Cas is worth the pain. 

They continue to kiss for another few moments, Dean getting used to and loving the feeling of Cas underneath him, basking in the little sighs and moans he makes. Cas moves his arms from around Dean’s neck to his shoulders, pushing off Dean’s flannel shirt and grunting in annoyance when he notices that Dean’s wearing another underneath it. He pushes that one off, only to find another one under it as well.

Cas pulls away, giving Dean an annoyed look.

“Why are you wearing so many flannel shirts?” he grumbles, pulling the third off, looking less annoyed once he sees that Dean isn’t wearing a fourth one.

“Always come prepared,” Dean says with a grin, unbuttoning Cas’s light blue shirt. Cas huffs in annoyance at that.

“Prepared for what?” Cas asks, helping Dean unbutton his shirt. 

“I don’t know,” Dean admits. “You can never have too many shirts on.” Cas is looking at Dean like he’s crazy, which, okay, fair enough, but Sam wears more layers than Dean does – not that Dean really wants to be thinking about his brother when he’s probably about to get laid.

“That’s completely illogical,” Cas says, but he pulls Dean back into a kiss anyways, one hand curled around Dean’s neck and the other on Dean’s back. Dean likes this much better than having to explain to Cas why he wears so many layers. They’re talking way too much for a make out session, Dean decides.

Finally he gets Cas’s shirt open, smoothing a hand down the length of Cas’s chest, Cas giving a sharp intake of breath when Dean’s thumb brushes against one of his nipples. 

“What the fuck?” comes a shrill shriek and a loud bang from behind them, causing Dean to sit straight up. Cas’s foot hits the floor with a thump when his leg slides off Dean’s back.

Jo is standing in the doorway looking incredibly shocked, having dropped a box of something Dean can’t see on the floor. She takes in the scene, Dean’s three shirts on the floor, Cas’s shirt open, their kiss swollen lips. 

“Charlie!” she screeches, sounding distressed. Honestly, Dean thinks this is all an overreaction. So he and Cas had been kissing, big deal.

Except, it is a pretty big deal. Dean has never even admitted to liking men before, letting alone being in love with one and making out with said guy on the couch of his apartment when they must have forgotten to lock the door. Dean feels like he should be mortified now that Jo knows, and soon, everyone else, but he isn’t. He’s surprisingly okay with all of this. Maybe one day in twenty years when him and Cas are married with three kids and a white picket fence he’ll wake up and freak out, but today? Today he’s feeling alright about it.

Wait, shit, did he just mention marriage? And kids? No, that’s a whole other world from where they are now, a whole other universe, if he’s being really accurate. God, he’s not seriously think about marriage, is he? Him and Cas just kissed for the first time, they haven’t even had sex, how could –

No, he’s cool, he’s fine. Like he said, right now, he’s okay with all of it.

(Obviously, except the marriage thing. That was a million steps too far – a billion even. Not that that’s the point. He’s not in denial again, it’s just nerves. Whatever, he doesn’t have to explain himself.)


	5. Chapter 5

“ _Yo_ u? And _yo_ u?” Jo is spluttering, pointing between the two of them, sounding like this is the biggest and weirdest news since that time Charlie hacked into their English teacher’s computer in 10th grade and found out he was secretly a pimp on the side. Suffice to say, that had been a startling and horrifying revelation to all of them – although Dean does distinctly remember Gabriel being completely nonplussed, even going so far as to suggest Dean become one of his prostitutes, which earned him multiple smacks upside the head. Dean doesn’t think that him and Cas being together really deserves to be put in the same category as that. If they even are together. They were only just making out, and even though they had talked, it hadn’t been about that.

“Alright, Joey, I think you’re making too big a deal out of this,” Dean says, mentally high fiving himself for the reference. On the outside though, he makes a show of dramatically rolling his eyes. 

Jo stalks towards them, picking up the heavy looking box she had dropped on the way. She slams it down on the coffee table, putting her hands on her hips.

“It is a big deal!” she insists, and okay, now she has to be quoting Friends on purpose. Either that or his life has turned into a ‘90s sitcom. He’s not entirely sure which is worse. If they’re going the sitcom route, Sam’s probably vacationing on a beach in Hawaii while Dean, like an idiot, forms a task force to try and find his kidnapped ass. He’s hoping Jo just had a Friends rewatch, because Dean really isn’t in the mood for looking like an idiot right now.

“We were just making out,” Dean mutters, trying to downplay the situation just in case the old guy running the show in his mind tries to reconquer the throne from the new more open-minded one. 

He misses the hurt look on Cas’s face at that, working on putting back on his shirts. Jo looks at him putting his clothes back on for a second.

“Okay, that was not “just” making out. That was “I totally want to fuck your brains out” making out.” Jo looks at him struggling to put on his third flannel with pursed lips. “And what the hell is up with all the shirts?”

Dean sighs, scrubbing the hand that isn’t currently fighting his outmost layer down his face.

“Ijustlikeitokay,” he mumbles so fast that he knows Jo won’t understand it. Jo gives him an annoyed look, but she doesn’t press, giving him the slightest smirk and letting her hands fall away from her waist in a more relaxed pose. That definitely means that he’ll be hearing from her later, probably nonstop until he starts downing whiskey, Ellen eying him in disapproval from behind the bar, despite the fact she poured him it. It’s nothing he’s not used to at this point. 

“Could you not tell anyone, yet?” Cas suddenly breaks in, giving Dean an uncertain sideways glance. Dean isn’t sure why, but shrugs it off. 

“Not –” Jo glares at Cas as if he’s personally offended her. “How do you expect me to keep it a secret? Charlie definitely heard me yelling from three floors down – elevator’s broken, by the way – and she’s gonna want to know why I called her!” 

“Make something up,” Cas says in a clipped voice, getting up off the couch and leaving the room. Dean watches him leave; he’s confused by Cas’s sour mood, but he stares unashamedly at Cas’s ass, anyways, making Jo click her tongue in annoyance.

Jo’s hands are back on her hips again, her default stance for when she’s pissed. She does this a lot around Dean, enough where he thinks she should probably just leave her hands on her hips at all times when she’s around him. It would probably make it easier for her arms.

“What did you say to him?” Jo inquires, narrowing her eyes. Dean appreciates that she’s immediately on Cas’s side, because it’s not like him and Jo were raised like they were actual siblings. They have a real loyalty between them.

Then again, Dean can’t blame her. Problems are usually Dean’s fault; he has a real penchant for fucking things up. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Dean defends. He is human after all. “You probably noticed that we weren’t doing much talking when you walked in!” Not completely true, but Jo doesn’t need to know that. “How could I have said something to offend him?” 

Jo ignores his question, instead asking him, completely out of the blue, “Do you want to be with Cas?” Dean is startled by this, but he knows the answer immediately as she asks it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, merely because he can’t believe his life went the ‘90s sitcom route. Sam had better bring him a goddamn t-shirt when he gets back from the Bahamas. 

Jo gives him an almost pitying look, and he can already guess what she’s going to say next. 

“Then you have to talk to him,” Jo tells him. “Relationships are—” But Dean isn’t hearing anymore of this, so he gets up and heads to Cas’s room, ignoring Jo’s shout of, “Get ‘em, tiger!”

\--

Cas’s room is even neater than Dean’s own, only because Cas doesn’t have as much stuff as Dean does. Everything Cas owns is stuck primly into its proper drawer or on its shelf, while in Dean’s room, he has so many things that they overflow, giving his room a more messy vibe. 

Cas is sitting on his bed when Dean walks in, reading a Jane Austen novel, and Dean has to hold back a cringe; Cas only reads Jane Austen when he’s upset. Dean remembers when he asked Cas about this, only to get a shrug and, “I enjoy happy endings” in response. If it hadn’t have been Cas, it wouldn’t have been a very memorable conversation, but Dean has always made sure to remember details that Cas tells him. Call him a sap, he’s probably been unknowingly in love with the guy since he was ten or something.

Dean clears his throat, causing Cas’s eyes to flick up from his book, then back down. He sighs, placing the book, still open, but facing downwards, onto the bed. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asks, not making eye contact with him. Jo must have been right about Cas being upset with him; Cas is always up for some soulful eye magic.

Dean steps further into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. If this ends with him getting lucky – which he highly doubts, but you never know – then he’s got to be prepared. He wouldn’t want Jo to walk in on his naked ass – even if it wouldn’t be the first time. That’s a story for another day.

“Are you alright?” Dean questions awkwardly, not really sure of what else to say. He’s never been for this whole “feelings” thing, especially not the “talking them out” part. 

Cas’s eyes flick towards Dean’s, then away again. This is the worst part of it, Dean thinks. Usually, when Cas is mad, he’s balled fists and stiff shoulders, glittering eyes and righteous fury. Now? Now, he won’t even look at Dean, doesn’t even want to make eye contact with him. Jo was right; Dean needs to fix this.

“Was that just an experiment for you?” Cas asks softly, looking at his hands. 

Dean’s heart practically severs in two just from his tone. He never sees Cas like this, looking so subdued and upset. And it’s because he thinks Dean used him, that he toyed with his feelings just because he wanted to know what it was like to kiss a guy.

He wants to grab Cas by the shoulders, tell him that he’s fucking in love with you, you stupid son of a bitch. 

He doesn’t, though. He isn’t sure that he or Cas is ready for that.

“Cas, no,” Dean says instead, and he feels like shit because this is the second time in the same day that he’s had to reassure Cas that he doesn’t hate him. 

“Then why?” Cas asks bluntly, finally looking Dean straight in the eye. Dean barely stops himself from gulping. This is it, his last chance to defend his crumbling heterosexuality. He could turn tail right now and play it off, save his image while he still can. 

But he doesn’t. Cas means more than Dean’s self regimented masculinity ever could. It just may have taken Dean a little too long to figure that out.

And despite what Dean said earlier, “I love you” comes tumbling straight – bad choice of word there – out of his lips, readiness be damned. Cas’s eyes widen, and Dean can feel his own doing so as well. The love confession probably startled him more than it did Cas.

“You love me?” Cas breathes, looking shocked. He looks like he’s going to start pinching himself to see if he’s dreaming, and Dean can’t help the tiny smile that tips his lips up slightly.

Dean takes a step closer to the bed, only about two feet away from Cas now, swallows thickly, and says, “Yeah, I, uh, I guess I do.” He shakes his head and clears his throat, because, no, and “I guess so” isn’t good enough, not for Cas. He needs to stow his bullshit for one minute, just to get this out. He has to.

“No, I – I definitely do. Fuck, I don’t even know how long. I just know that – God, I sound like a goddamn teenage girl, but for a long time, Cas, you’ve meant a lot more to me than most people do. I told myself that you were like my brother, but…” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself while Cas watches him with wide eyes. “It’s a lot more than that. And shit, Cas, I’ve been such a dick to you, but I was scared and stupid, and I was having a hard time dealing. But I – I want to be with you, Cas. I want everything with you, all of it, the whole nine yards. When I see myself in five, ten, twenty years from now, I see myself with you. I’ve never seen that with Cassie, or any of those other women I’ve been with. Hell, I don’t even see Sam. I’ve always thought he was going to leave me at some point to become a hot shot lawyer in some big city.” Dean takes another calming breath, gearing himself up. “There’s no one I’d rather be with. List anybody, Cas, no matter who it is, I’d rather have you.” Dean braces himself for rejection; at this point, it’s just a reflex.

He didn’t need to, because the next thing Dean knows, there’s arms around his neck and lips covering his. Dean immediately kisses back with the same fervor as Cas, his hands digging hard into Cas’s hips. 

 

It’s different than it was before. That kiss had been more hesitant, even when it got passionate. Now, it’s just a flood of all different emotions, each trying to convey things like I need you and I’m sorry and you’re forgiven and I love you, too. It’s the first time they’ve been on the same page in forever, and Dean basks in the feeling.

Because Dean trusts that Jo at least likes Cas enough to not let anyone interrupt them, Dean has no problem letting Cas push all three layer of flannel off of him at once – he’s not even upset about the fact that he just put them back on – and Cas doesn’t protest when Dean kicks off his shoes and pushes the two of them backwards onto the bed. They both land on it in a tangled heap, their heads just barely avoiding bumping together.

Dean pulls away from Cas, giving him one last soothing kiss on his lips when he whimpers in protest, and starts attacking his neck, licking, and sucking, and biting along it. Cas moans and sighs as Dean continues his ministrations, sounds that Dean wants to record and listen to forever.

But soon, Cas has had enough, fisting his hands in Dean’s short hair and pulling him back in for a kiss, hooking an ankle around one of Dean’s thighs, using it as leverage to grind himself up against Dean. Dean gasps into his mouth at the friction, definitely not used to the feeling of another bulge against his own, but he’s definitely willing to get used to it. 

Not willing to go through the entire struggle again, Dean grabs Cas’s collar, ripping the other man’s shirt open, the buttons popping of and flying everywhere. Cas gives a disgruntled sound which is somewhere between a grunt and a gasp, but doesn’t otherwise complain once Dean starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick to you,” Dean mumbles against Cas’s skin. He doesn’t give Cas a chance to respond, though, venturing lower and flattening his tongue on Cas’s nipple. Cas moans as Dean takes the nub lightly between his teeth, using a hand to tweak his other one, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until it hardens.

Dean is startled when he’s suddenly lying on his back, Cas looming over him with the slightest smirk, straddling his hips. He looks absolutely sinful, with his hair dangerously disheveled and his kiss swollen lips, not to mention his shirt hanging open, showing off his chest that Dean is dying to touch. Cas’s every other morning jogs have really paid off in the abdomen department; Dean’s going to have to thank Sam for telling Cas his old jogging routes and encouraging him to use them.

Cas grinds down forcefully on Dean, making Dean moan and tilt his head back, grabbing Cas’s hips forcefully. Cas takes this as an opportunity to lean down and lick a stripe from Dean’s collar to behind his ear. Cas’s teeth graze Dean’s earlobe, and he whispers, “I’m used to it” lowly into his ear, his voice several octaves deeper than it normally is. Dean gives him a light smack on the ass at that, even though it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.

Cas cups a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, bringing their lips back together, Dean immediately licking into Cas’s mouth, already addicted to his taste. Cas pulls Dean up into a sitting position so that he’s sitting in Dean’s lap. He hums into Dean’s mouth, shouldering off his open shirt and throwing it onto the floor. He reaches the hand that isn’t on Dean’s neck under Dean’s t-shirt and –

Cas pulls away abruptly. 

“Are you wearing two shirts?” Cas asks, sounding even more like he just deepthroated someone than usual. Soon, Dean may even be able to know firsthand what Cas sounds like after he actually as.

“Maybe?” Dean answers, his own voice rougher as well, and, dammit, he really can’t stop staring at Cas’s chest, it looks so fucking good. He stops himself from imagining what it would look like if it was covered in cherry pie because that particular thought it definitely for another day.

Cas rolls his eyes, pushing both hands under Dean’s – admittedly three – t-shirts, shucking them all off at the same time and throwing them in the same direction as his shirt. Cas runs his hands along Dean’s chest before shoving him back into the mattress. Before Cas can climb back on top of him, Dean grabs his hips and pulls Cas back underneath him, smirking at Cas’s annoyed huff. 

Dean begins kissing along Cas’s jaw as Cas’s hands head south, working on Dean’s belt.

Once he gets it open, Dean pulls back enough that him and Cas are making eye contact. Cas’s pupils are blown so wide from arousal that Dean can barely even see any blue left. He’s sure his eyes are about the same.

“Are you sure?” Dean asks, noting the determined look in Cas’s eye. Just from it alone, he already knows the answer.

Cas doesn’t bothering answering, instead unbuttoning Dean’s jeans and pulling down the fly so fast that Dean’s pretty sure he broke it. He shoves Dean’s pants and boxers down just enough that his ass is uncovered and his erection comes free, hitting against his stomach.

Cas takes it into his hand at the base, jerking it once and sliding his thumb over the head. Dean drops his head onto Cas’s shoulder, as Cas gives his cock another quick jerk.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean moans, so out of it that he doesn’t even hear the door slam open.

He does, however, hear a squeak of surprise, that is definitely Charlie and then a “Shit!” that has to be Gabriel.

The door closes again, followed by an “I can’t believe I’m going to have the image of Dean’s naked ass seared into my brain forever!” from Charlie. Dean can practically hear Jo’s eye roll when she replies, “Join the club. That’s the fourth time I’ve seen it.”

There’s banging on the door, now, and Gabriel yelling, “You better not still be defiling my little brother in there, Winchester!”

Dean groans at the same time Cas sighs. They both ignore Gabriel’s “I heard that! Don’t make me come in there!” 

 

“We’ll never have a moment’s peace, will we?” Dean grumbles, pushing himself off of Cas and pulling his jeans back up. He feels an uncharacteristic blush cover his cheeks when he sees Cas’s eying his length before he tucks it away.

“I suppose not,” Cas says, sitting up as well. He looks forlornly towards the blue button up on the floor. “I’m going to need a new shirt.” Dean barely resists rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll buy you one,” he promises, picking his six shirts up off the floor. Seeing how many of them there are, Dean wonders if maybe he should cut down on the layers slightly.

That’s when Gabriel comes barging in, looking just about ready for murder, pausing when he sees that Dean is no longer near Cas and has his pants pulled up. He gives Dean a death glare, pointing first at his eyes, then at Dean in an I’m watching you motion. 

This time Dean doesn’t repress his eye roll. He puts on the first of his t-shirts and, in a fit of rebellion, pulls on a flannel. He’s only going two layers, now. It’s very freeing.

Gabriel is still standing in the door watching them closely, so Dean doesn’t turn to look at Cas who’s still shirtless and rifling through a drawer in an attempt to remedy this problem. He’s pretty sure Gabriel wouldn’t hesitate to punch him in the nuts if he did.

Dean always thought that Gabe would be more the type of brother to throw Cas some condoms on a first date than the type to stand threateningly by the door and glare. This was not a crazy assumption, given that when he and Cas had gone stag together to prom Gabriel had shoved condoms in both their pockets and told them to go nuts, then laughed maniacally at the awful pun. Michael, Cas’s oldest brother, had been glaring at Dean from his perch on top of the stairs. If anyone was going to kill Dean for being with Cas, he would have thought it would have been Michael.

Apparently, he was wrong, though. He hopes Cas doesn’t invite him to a family dinner any time soon. If this is how Gabriel is reacting, he’d hate to see how Michael does. And, hell, if Gabriel wants to kill him, then Lucifer, the second oldest and voted Most Likely to Become a Serial Killer in his yearbook, will probably be sharpening butcher’s knives at the dinner table and licking them menacingly while making direct eye contact with him.

At least Cas likes him. And Anna, too. Maybe there’s a small chance he’d survive this figurative dinner with the Novak family with them on his side.

Once Cas gets a shirt on – or at least Dean assumes since he’s pointedly staring at the wall – Gabriel asks, “Will you excuse us for a minute, Cassie?” in an all too sweet voice. 

Dean’s so screwed.

Dean finally turns to look at Cas to see him in an almost identical button down – Dean is so not buying him a new one – looking heavily annoyed.

“Gabriel—” he starts to protest, but Gabriel grabs him by the elbow and ushers him out, closing the door once he’s gone and locking in for good measure.

Scratch that, Dean’s super screwed. 

“Listen, Dean-o,” Gabriel begins, pulling a lollipop out of his pocket. Dean has never seen someone open a lollipop so threateningly until this moment. “I like you. You may have almost broken my cheekbone yesterday, but I still like you.” He gives Dean a hard look. “If you so much as touch a hair on my little bro’s head in a way that could even be interpreted as negative, I will kidnap you in your sleep, take you to a faraway place in the middle of the woods where no one can hear you scream, strap you down, and slowly feed you into a wood chipper.” Dean stares at him blankly. “Capiche?” 

When Dean continues to just stare at him, Gabriel adds, “I know I’ve joked about you two before, which all in good fun, good laughs, good times. But I didn’t think you’d ever actually get the guts to take my little bro to town, if you know what I’m saying.”

Before Gabriel can continue, Dean says, “I get it, I uh, I get it, okay?” He scrubs a hand over his face; this is unbelievable. “And I haven’t, um,” his voice turns to a mumble “taken him to town.”

Gabriel’s face lights up. “You haven’t? Thank fuck, we can still preserve his innocence!” He pops the lollipop into his mouth, but continues, anyways. “Winchester, if you don’t bang my bro, I’ll give you…” He digs through his pockets, pulling out about fifty lollipops, two kitkats, a zero bar, and eight snickers. He gets to cash eventually, counting the bills in his hand before he finishes, “Twenty-two bucks.” He gives Dean a hopeful look.

Yeah, right. “No,” Dean responds immediately, pushing past him, unlocking the door and heading out. 

Gabriel yells, “How about twenty-two bucks and a blowjob, on me!” Dean ignores this, not even wanting to consider the idea of Gabriel giving him a blowjob. Or giving anyone a blowjob, for that matter. Or even just having sex. Or Gabriel. Honestly, he just doesn’t want to think of Gabriel. 

When Dean gets to the main room, Charlie is grilling Cas much in the way that Cas had grilled Mrs. Tate earlier. Meaning, Charlie is yelling – however, her yelling is more excited squeals and less cursing – and Cas has no idea how to answer, looking towards Jo for help, but she’s just shaking her head in pity.

“Alright, Charles, lay off,” Dean calls, almost laughing at the relieved look on Cas’s face when Charlie does stop. “How did Plan C go?”

Charlie doesn’t look that excited to get back to business, but she does look between Dean and Cas repeatedly with glee in her eyes.

It’s Jo who answers, “It was a complete bust. Gabriel, the fucking dumbass, printed wanted posters instead of have you seen this man ones.” She shakes her head, this time in annoyance. “That’s what we get for trusting him with something important.”

“Sam probably shouldn’t come back to Kansas City any time soon,” Charlie informs him regretfully. “The signs are still all over the city.”

“That won’t be a problem if we don’t find him,” Dean growls, plopping down on the burnt couch next to Cas, putting his head in his hands. Cas places a hand on Dean’s thigh, and whispers him some reassurances, and Dean’s almost embarrassed by how quickly it makes him feel better.

When Dean looks up Charlie’s eyes are flitting between Dean and Cas, an adoring look on her face. Dean doesn’t have to read minds to know she’s thinking about how cute they are.

They aren’t cute, Dean wants to protest. They are two manly men that happen to have feelings for each other. There’s nothing more manly than that, in Dean’s book.

Gabriel comes in, looking more somber than usual and giving Dean pleading looks. Dean has no clue why Gabriel is so obsessed with Cas and his personal life. He wouldn’t be surprised if Gabriel calls Cas every hour to make sure he knows where he is or some shit. Gabe would probably freak out if he didn’t get a call from Cas for a few days and he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. Some people can be so overbearing. Dean’s glad that he isn’t like that.

Gabriel looks between Jo and Charlie, noticing Charlie’s giddiness at Dean and Cas being together and Jo’s more contained excitement. He looks mildly affronted.

“Is no else bothered by the fact that Dean-o over there is trying to steal my little bro’s v-card?” Gabriel demands, sitting down on the not burnt couch with his arms cross. Cas turns bright red, sending Gabriel a glare. He looks like he’s about to protest, but Dean decides to break in instead.

“Cas isn’t a virgin,” Dean lies and sounding like it, even to his own ears. He sends Cas a grin and a wink anyway, but Cas has never been one for social cues.

“Yes, I am,” Cas objects, giving Dean a confused look. Dean sighs, his grin slipping slightly. 

“Look, man, I was trying to help you out, you could’ve just…” Dean begins to explain, but Cas eyes are still narrowed, like he’s trying to figure Dean out,


	6. Chapter 6

“Let’s get to Plan D,” Charlie announces, sounding much less excited than she had originally. This whole thing was weighing on all of them; they all just wanted to find Sam.

“What’s that?” Jo asks, sitting down next to Gabe. When he gives her a leer, she scoots to the other end of the couch, giving him a glare. “I’ll kick you in the goddamn balls,” she promises lowly, and Gabriel’s eyes widen. He turns back to Charlie, looking properly chastised. Dean has to hold back a grin.

“It had to do with Sam’s dog, but…” she trails off, her lips pursed.

“He brought the dog with him,” Dean finishes. Of course, the one time Sam had to go missing, he takes his dog with him on a business trip. The kid can never make Dean’s life easier, can he?

“What’s Plan E, then?” Cas asks Charlie. Charlie looks up from her book regretfully.

“There is no Plan E,” she informs them. “We’re just gonna have to brainstorm ideas.” Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach. This is the last thing he needed five minutes after being threatened bodily harm.

Before a single suggestion can be thrown out, Meg and Victor enter the apartment, Victor in his uniform and Meg smoking. Dean sends her a glare that she answers with a smirk and a particularly large puff of smoke.

“What’re we doing?” Victor asks, sitting himself down next to Jo. Meg props herself on the arm of the burnt couch, giving Cas a more genuine smile than she’s ever given Dean. Or probably anyone else in her entire life, for that matter.

“Brainstorming ideas for Plan E,” Charlie tells them, looking at the board. By now, it’s pinned with plenty of more papers, but Dean’s not sure they actually mean anything. One of the papers is the receipt for a twelve pack of tacos from Taco Bell, that could no way actually be connected to finding Sam, unless he purchased the tacos. This is unlikely, considering Sam has recently taken up vegetarianism – much to Dean’s utter disappointment; he thought he’d raised Sam better than that – and wouldn’t eat something from Taco Bell if he was being held at gun point.

“Meg, did you take down all the posters?” Jo asks, giving her a hard look. Dean doesn’t know why she even bothered asking.

Meg widens her eyes in faux innocence. “That’s what I was supposed to be doing?” she drawls, taking another puff of smoke. She’s not even apologetic about both the smoke, and the fact that Sam is going to be an outlaw in Kansas City. 

“Can we get to brainstorming?” Dean snaps, done with all this pettiness. He wants to find his brother, fuck Cas, and be happy, not necessarily in that order. He’d be willing to be persuaded to interchange the first two.

Charlie nods, propping her whiteboard on the corkboard’s ledge, writing “Plan E Ideas” in red marker. She gives them all an expectant look. She’s met with silence.

Finally, Victor offers, “You could file a missing person’s report at the station. It’s been over forty-eight hours, and the police would—” He gets cut off by Gabriel, who yells, “No! Fuck the police!” right in Victor’s face. Victor gives him an offended look.

“In your case, I mean literally,” Gabriel adds, giving Victor a crass wink, which the other man scoffs at in response. 

“Can we think of some logical ideas?” Charlie suggests, shooting Victor and Gabriel both glares. 

“Satan,” Meg deadpans, taking another drag from her cigarette. Everyone pauses, including Victor and Gabriel, whose bickering cuts off abruptly. They all stare at Meg, the same look of confusion and slight horror on their faces.

“What?” Charlie blurts, her arms flailing all over in trying to convey her outrage. “This is not what I meant when I asked for something logical! The devil is about the furthest thing from logical you can get!”

Meg shrugs. “When all else fails…” She gives Cas a sarcastic grin before grabbing his jaw, opening his mouth, and blowing smoke directly in it. By the way Cas jerks his chin out of her grasp, but doesn’t start coughing, this isn’t the first time Meg has done this. And by the smug smirk she gives Dean, she definitely did it just to piss him off. Fine, two can play at this game.

Dean turns Cas’s face towards him and kisses him firmly on the mouth in a way that should not be done in front of other people. He can hear Victor groan, Jo fake gag, and Gabriel hyperventilating behind him, but drowns that out in favor of seeing just how far he can stick his tongue down Cas’s throat.

He pulls away with a loud smacking sound, giving Meg, who looks affronted, a cocky smile. Cas snaps out of his daze to look between the two of them with a glare.

“Would you two kindly end your pissing contest over me?” Cas snaps. Dean at least has the decency to look contrite – although, honestly, he isn’t. Putting Meg in her place felt pretty great.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently decided to date a caveman, Clarence,” Meg drawls, giving an unapologetic shrug. Dean ignores her comment; he’s going to be the bigger man for once. “You could do so much better.”

He’s not that much of a bigger man, though. In fact, he’s feeling rather small today. This is why he can’t stop himself from jumping up, to do what, he doesn’t know, but punching a wall feels like a particularly great idea right now. Cas jumps up at the same time, putting a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him from moving.

“Dean, please,” he says brusquely. Dean mashes his teeth together, muttering an annoyed, “she started it” before sitting back down on the couch. Cas follows suit, giving both Meg and Dean a we’ll talk later look. Dean’s glad that at least Meg is being dragged through the mud as well.

“If this episode of Days of Our Lives is over,” Charlie breaks in, “can we get back to brainstorming ideas?” She looks at the blank whiteboard mournfully for a moment. “Meg, your idea is a hard Plan F.”

“Plan F?” Victor repeats sounding shocked. “You actually want to summon the devil?” Charlie sighs, putting a hand through her short hair. 

“If all else fails,” she echoes from Meg’s earlier statement, shaking her head. This whole thing is clearly taking a lot out of her, almost as much as it has Dean.

“I have to agree,” Cas says, looking concerned that he and Victor are the only ones vetoing the idea. “Performing a satanic ritual and summoning an evil spirit is more likely to get us and others killed than it is to find Sam.” 

“It’s only Plan F,” Charlie reassures the two, but she doesn’t sound very convincing. “We’ll only do it if Plan E doesn’t work.”

“Speaking of Plan E,” Gabriel pipes up, looking excited. “I have a great idea.” This isn’t going to be good.

\--

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and seen, in my entire life,” Dean gripes, shooting Gabriel the deadliest glare in his arsenal. Gabriel remains unperturbed, even looking quite happy with himself.

“That’s a lie, there was Jo’s plan on how to get Benny Lafitte to go out with her when you guys were sophomores,” Gabriel points out, and, yeah, he’s kind of right. 

Gabriel and Benny had been seniors at the time, while the rest of them – Dean, Charlie, Cas, and Jo – had been 10th graders. Benny had been hanging out with them more and more since he had broken up with his long time girlfriend Andrea, and Jo had gotten a huge crush on him. (Looking back in it, Dean’s pretty sure he had a pretty big crush on the guy, too, and had just thought he thought Benny was cool and looked up to him. Yeah, given how long Dean had spent staring at the guy’s mouth, there’s no way his feelings had been platonic.) She had this insane plan that she was going to seduce him in the boy’s locker room after football practice, even though there would be about fifteen other guys in the room, including Dean. It hadn’t worked, as everyone expected. Dean had seen a lot more of Jo than he had ever wanted to, and Benny had gotten back with Andrea a week later. They’re married with three girls now; Benny gives Dean updates about them when Dean comes by his diner or when Benny comes by the shop to get his car checked out.

A lot of weird shit happened for them in the 10th grade, now that Dean thinks about it.

“I was fifteen!” Jo protests, blushing slightly; it’s not a story she likes being brought up. “And it would have worked if I hadn’t been so young, I’m telling you!” Dean and Gabriel share a look, for once in agreement about something: Jo’s definitely in denial.

Not that Dean is really one to talk about something like that, but, hey, he calls them as he sees them.

“Gabriel,” Cas sighs, looking ridiculous in the long brown wig Gabriel put on him, Dean, and himself. “This plan is completely foolish. No one would ever fall for this.”

Dean’s definitely with him on this. Gabriel’s five star plan is to have himself, Dean, and Cas dress up like Sam and Meg, Charlie, and Jo dress as Jess, and have them each go places that Sam and Jess normally frequent, so that if the kidnapper sees them, they’ll think that they didn’t kidnap the right Sam.

Dean’s pretty sure that all of Gabriel’s logic comes from old cartoons and stupid ass soaps.

(This, obviously, does not include Doctor Sexy MD, which is a great show, the real highlight of its genre. Dean can be trusted on this; he only watches high-class television.)

“It’s so crazy, it just might work,” Gabriel quips. Cas’s skeptical look doesn’t drop, and Dean doesn’t feel reassured either.

“I don’t know about this,” Charlie sighs, brushing the blonde hair of her wig out of her face. “Shouldn’t we make this our best idea? We don’t want to have to do Plan F.”

“Wake up, woman!” Gabriel yells dramatically. “There are no other ideas!” He has them there, it’s not like anyone else had something better to offer.

When no one protests, Gabriel continues explaining, “We’ll each divide into couples, one set will go to Sam and Jess’s favorite restaurant, one set will go to Sam’s workplace, and the other will go to the local Farmers Market that they go to almost every day. If anyone kidnapped or stalked Sammy-boy, they would go to any of these places.”

“But if they have Sam why would they go there now?” Cas wonders, still looking entirely unsure about this plan. Gabriel looks completely stumped for a moment, racking his brains for a plausible answer.

“Maybe he’s looking for Jess?” Gabriel answers, but it sounds more like a question. Dean groans, putting a hand on his face, the annoying ass wig flopping all up in his face.

“He doesn’t even know why this would work! We’re never going to find Sam, we might as well just summon the fucking devil now!” Dean complains, unable to believe that he was considering going along with this not even a minute ago.

“Wait,” Victor interrupts, considering the plan. “The kidnapper would have probably had some sort of in tell at each of these places, since stalking Sam would have been too suspicious. If “Sam” were to show up at one of these places, word would probably get back to the kidnapper, and he would have no choice but to kidnap this second Sam, in case he got the wrong one. We could put a tracker on the three of you, and if you are kidnapped, you’ll lead us right to Sam. This could actually work.” 

Gabriel looks smug at this, but Dean doesn’t really know why. He obviously just thought it would be funny to have them all dressed in wigs and huge clothes, Victor actually came up with the logistics of the plan.

“It’s settled, then!” Gabriel announces excitedly. “Plan E commences at high noon! Be there or be square, motherfuckers!” Gabriel runs out the door like a crazed lunatic, laughing maniacally. “He ducks his head back in the door to say, “Told you I was in charge, Red.”

“Hey!” Charlie yelps, looking indignant. “I’m in charge, and you’d better get back here right now or I’ll go all Natasha Romanoff on your sorry ass!”

Gabriel peaks back in, looking repentant. He mutters a low “sorry” before coming back into the apartment.

“Now,” Charlie begins, “how exactly do you plan on pulling off being Sam? You’re almost a foot shorter than him.” Gabriel gives her an offended look, even if she does have a point.

“I’m not that short!” Gabriel protests. “And I have stilts. Dean and Cassie are just going to use some tall shoes that I bought them.” Dean and Cas share a confused look.

“Why did you buy us tall shoes, Gabriel?” Cas asks, sounding exasperated. Dean doesn’t blame him; Cas has been dealing with Gabriel for twenty-nine years. That has to take a lot out of a person.

“I thought for Halloween the three of us could dress as Sam,” Gabriel explains, grinning like this was the best idea ever. Dean would honestly rather saw off his left foot than do a group activity with Gabriel.

Gabriel keeps smiling, even when Dean and Cas don’t offer an enthusiastic response. Dean is starting to think Gabriel kidnapped Sam just so that he could make them all dress up. Dean wouldn’t put it past him; the guy is a grade A douche.

“We’ll meet here at noon,” Charlie says, looking at the time. “It’s getting late and I’ve got a hot date with Netflix and pepperoni pizza.” She gives them a wink before leaving.

Gabriel spreads himself across the couch, not making a move to leave like everyone else has.

“I’m staying,” Gabriel declares, curling up to get comfortable. “I have to watch you, Dean-o. Don’t want you taking advantage of my little bro while there’s no one to stop you.”

Dean’s just about had enough of Gabriel’s bs at this point. Seeing the guy once a week like he usually does is bad enough, but seeing him almost nonstop for two days straight? Dean doesn’t know how Cas survived the first sixteen years of his life before Gabriel moved out.

Dean ends up having to carry Gabriel out – not bridal style, more one arm, one leg style – and drops him unceremoniously in the hallway, locking the door behind him. He sticks one of the kitchen chairs under the knob as well, because he wouldn’t have put it past Gabriel to somehow get himself a copy of their key without them noticing.

By the time Dean is prepared to go to bed, Cas is already all ready fast asleep in his own room. Dean gets into his own bed as well, cursing Gabriel for being the most annoying, cockblocking bastard he knows. 

\--

The next morning, Dean wakes to the smell of something burning. He holds off the flashbacks from the incident from two days ago and sends a quick prayer to the God he doesn’t believe in that no more furniture has been destroyed. He also adds a quick side note that he’d really like to fuck Cas without being interrupted because, hey, he’s a good person, he deserves a miracle every now and then.

Then he realizes that he forgot to pray for his brother and decides that yeah, he definitely deserves hell.

Dean gets out of bed quickly; he’s worried that Cas has somehow managed to set the entire place on fire and is burning up slowly in the flames. It might be a bit of an overreaction, but sue him, it hasn’t been his week. He almost wouldn’t be surprised.

There’s no fire anywhere, as far as Dean can see, but when he enters the kitchen, he finds smoke coming from the stove and Cas muttering curses under his breath.

 

“Cas, babe,” Dean says, his tiredness allowing for the pet name to slip out, “I’ve told you not to bother trying to cook.” He takes the spatula out of Cas’s hand, looking into the pan Cas had been using. Whatever he had been trying to make is so burnt that Dean can’t even make out what it was.

“I was trying to make eggs,” Cas tells him mournfully when he notices the questioning look on Dean’s face. Dean shakes his head, trying not to laugh as he picks up the pan and brings it to the sink, using the spatula to scrape off the burnt egg. 

Dean places the pan in the sink and looks to Cas, who looks so upset about not being able to make eggs that Dean can’t help but pull him into a hug.

Cas melts into his arms, burying his face in Dean’s neck, as Dean runs a hand slowly up and down his back. He mumbles something Dean can’t make out, and Dean places a soothing kiss on the top of his head.

“I’ll text Jo to bring some bagels, okay?” Dean suggests, looking at the time and noticing that it’s almost noon. He and Cas are both late sleepers, especially when they didn’t have work. Dean had taken off from work at the garage for the day, while the school where Cas teaches had conveniently been off for the day for some obscure holiday or something. Dean’s glad, he doubts Cas would have been able to be part of the plan otherwise.

Cas nods into his shoulder, and Dean pulls away to grab his phone from his room and shoot Jo a quick text asking her to pick up bagels. She responds in the affirmative, and then makes a joke about his clothing habits that he doesn’t appreciate. Jo’s the worst, he should’ve asked Charlie.

“See?” Dean says when he returns. “It’s fine.” 

Cas still looks upset, and Dean isn’t surprised. Cas always gets upset at the reminder that he can’t cook for some reason, something about how his abusive mother used to tell him he was useless, and not being able to cook reminds him of that. That’s only an assumption made by Gabriel, however, Cas never told Dean exactly why it upset him.

Deciding to leave that talk for another day, Dean tilts up Cas’s chin and kisses him softly, hoping to offer Cas some comfort. Cas reaches up to gently to cradle Dean’s face in his hands, parting his lips and deepening the kiss.

Somehow what was supposed to be a small kiss becomes a full on make out session, with tongue and teeth and Dean lifting Cas onto the counter, getting between his legs, which Cas wraps around his waist automatically. 

They kiss for a while, Dean mapping Cas’s mouth, and Cas moving his hand up Dean’s shirt and along his back carefully, losing track of the time easily. 

A yelp and a dull thud sounds from behind them, making Dean pull away and spin around, to see Jo behind them, a large bag of bagels in her hands and an annoyed expression on her face.

“You made me drop my bagel!” she accuses, leaning down to pick said bagel up off the floor. “Why do I have to keep walking in on this?” she mumbles to herself, shoving half the bagel in her mouth and leaving quickly. 

Dean and Cas share a look before breaking into giggles that Dean will deny until his last breath.

\--

By noon, everyone is gathered in the main room and in their getup, munching on the bagels that Jo had brought. Everyone except Gabriel, that is, who claims to be on a candy only diet, which is stupid, but Dean’s not going to argue if Gabriel wants to die an early death. 

“This is like chapter four of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows!” Charlie laughs, looking at everyone in his or her Sam or Jess clothing. “If only we had some polyjuice potion and some of Sam’s hair.” 

 

“I have some of Sam’s hair,” Dean tells her, “so we’d only need some of the potion.” Charlie gives him a funny look so he adds, “It’s in a baby book.” That’s a lie, but Charlie nods, looking appeased, so he happily pretends that it isn’t.

What? You never know when you may need a strand of your brother’s DNA. It may come in handy.

“We need to get into pairs!” Gabriel announces, sidling up next to Jo and giving her an expectant look. She snorts in response and says, “Yeah, no way.”

Charlie hooks her arm in Cas’s, so Jo does the same to Dean, leaving Meg with Gabriel. She looks less than pleased with this outcome, giving Gabriel a glare that could rival Michael Phelps. She looks even more terrifying than usual with the blonde wig and the frilly dress. 

Gabriel walks over to her, wobbling a lot on his stilts, but still somehow managing to make it over without falling. He looks ridiculous, and Dean doubts that anyone would actually fall for Gabriel as Sam, but he doesn’t feel like getting into that argument. 

“What about me?” Victor asks, having been assigned no task for the plan.

“You’ll have to drive Meg and Gabe to wherever they’re going,” Charlie informs him, looking apologetic. “Gabriel got his license revoked and Meg only has a motorcycle.” The unspoken end to this, is that none of them would ever trust Meg with one of their cars. She’d probably crash it just to spite them. 

“It was completely unfair,” Gabriel complains, pouting childishly. Cas rolls his eyes, giving Gabriel an annoyed look.

“You were caught driving over a hundred miles per hour on the highway,” he points out blandly, to which Gabriel waves his hand in dismissal.

“Everyone speeds,” he protests. Cas looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“Fifteen times,” Cas adds, and Gabriel finally raises his hands in surrender, though he still looks indignant.

“You try having a Ferrari and not speeding.” 

Charlie leans towards Victor, whispering, “Make sure you watch them when you get to the restaurant. I don’t trust either of them to actually follow the task.”

\--

Dean and Jo are walking hand and hand through the Farmers Market, occasionally stopping at a booth and feigning interest in the produce.

“Who the fuck eats kale?” Dean grouses to himself. “What even is kale?” Jo has a similar look of disgust on her face, and Dean has to wonder how she isn’t his sibling and Sam is.

“I think I’ve seen that shit at Sam’s place,” she states, her nose wrinkled slightly. 

Dean uses their intertwined hands to pull Jo away from the stand, giving one last cold look towards the offending vegetable. Jo wobbles slightly, not used to the very high-heeled shoes she’s wearing to make her close to Jess’s height. Dean remembers how put out she looked when Gabe shoved a flowery dress at her and told her it was her costume. He holds back a smile.

“So how’s it feel?” Jo asks casually as they walk past some delectable looking peppers. 

“How does what feel?” Dean responds, heading towards the peppers. If they’re really going to be Sam and Jess, they’re going to have to buy some of the product. He’s just being realistic.

“Coming out,” Jo clarifies, biting her lip. Dean gives her a curious look; he’s not sure why she’s asking him this. 

“Nice, I guess,” Dean answers, smiling at the man behind the counter and examining the peppers looking for the nicest ones. “I don’t think I ever would have, hell I don’t think I would have even realized it, if it weren’t for Cas.” Jo nods, looking thoughtful. She digs through the green peppers and hands him a perfect looking one. He smiles in thanks, adding it to his growing pile.

“Are you happy?” Jo questions, her gaze intense for some reason. 

Dean honestly doesn’t know what’s going through her mind, but then again, Sammy always did tell him that he was about as observant as a sleeping baby. Which part of that was more insulting, Dean didn’t know, but he did know that Sam was probably right. Dean did have a penchant for not seeing what was right in front of his face. He’s not sure how to answer this question, she obviously has the one that she wants in mind.

“I’ll be happier when I have Sam back,” is what Dean decides to say. However, Jo doesn’t look very satisfied with this response, biting into her lip harder, so Dean adds, “But, yeah, I’m happier being with Cas than I was when I wasn’t. I’d be happier if you would quit stopping me from getting laid, though.” He gives her a grin, surprised when she doesn’t return it, in favor of looking down nervously.

Dean wants to ask if she’s alright, but it would be out of character for him to do so. Instead, he looks at her with the constipated expression he gets whenever he’s supposed to deal with something akin to feelings.

The guy behind the counter comes over, asking if they’re ready to pay. Dean smiles, putting on his best Sam voice, and gives him the affirmative, digging out his wallet.

“First time here?” the man asks, looking between Dean and Jo with a smile. He probably thinks they’re a cute couple, which, as if. If they were a couple they’d be one of those couples that was so not cute together that nobody would think they were together.

Dean fears he won’t be able to keep up that sort of pretense with Cas.

“No, actually,” Dean replies, hoping his friendly smile isn’t obstructed by his last thought or his worry for Jo. “It’s Sam and Jess, we come here every week.” He hands the guy the money requested, hoping that he falls for it.

The man looks at them for a moment, before breaking into a smile. 

“Oh yeah!” he exclaims, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, you guys said you wouldn’t be back for two weeks. You’re early.” It’s true, Jess wasn’t going to be returning from her parents place until the next day, even if Sam had been supposed to return a week ago.

“We got back early,” Jo tells him with a laugh, all signs of her earlier internal struggle gone. 

“It’s good to have you guys back,” the guy says, as Dean . “Have a nice day!” Jo and Dean give him one last smile and wave before turning away and back into the heart of the market.

“Can you believe he fell for that?” Dean asks, disbelieving. Jo doesn’t respond, having gone back to her thoughts.

Dean may be bad with emotions, but he can’t see her this way. He stops walking, causing Jo to look at him questioningly. Dean clears his throat.

“Okay, what’s up?” he interrogates, watching her closely. 

“Nothing’s up,” Jo answers immediately, but relents when she sees his expression. “Fine, um, I think,” She takes a calming breath; “I think I might be bi.”

 

Dean’s not sure exactly what she’s expecting from him, but based off her reaction, it certainly isn’t, “oh, cool” because she looks absolutely shocked.

“That’s it? Just “oh, cool”?” she repeats, her impersonation of him really far off, to the point where Dean can’t help but be offended.

“What did you expect? Do you want me to slap you around, because I’m not gonna do that,” Dean says, and Jo shakes her head.

“I dunno,” she answers, shrugging slightly. “I just thought you’d make a bigger deal.” Dean almost laughs at that, because, boy, did he make quite a deal about this kind of thing earlier.

“Trust me,” Dean tells her, his voice tired, but he’s still wearing a grin. “I already made the biggest deal I could. I’m wiped.” 

\--

The Farmers Market is spectacularly uneventful after this, unless buying some tomatoes and lettuce is considered a riveting activity.

The two return to the apartment before everyone else, sitting down on the non-burnt couch; Jo props her feet up on the coffee table, ignoring Dean’s glare.

“I have a thing for Charlie,” Jo announces, looking at the corkboard, which is blocking the TV. Dean doesn’t know why he bothered turning it on if they can’t even watch it.

He looks at her in surprise, and feels bad. He knows that Charlie doesn’t have feelings for Jo, and that she’s quite hung up on Dorothy from her LARPing group. He doesn’t know how to say it.

“I know,” Jo interrupts, stopping Dean from trying to come up with some lie. “She doesn’t like me like that. I’m okay with it. It just sucks.” Dean nods, but it’s not like he can relate. Cas reciprocated his feelings, and trying to compare him and Cas to her and Charlie would probably only upset her. 

The sit in silence for a moment, before Dean offers, “Want to cry about it, watch a rom com, eat some ice cream? I think I still have some in the freezer from the last time me and Cas talked about our feelings and watched The Notebook.” He gives her a genuine look, trying to hold back a grin and she laughs and smacks him lightly – for Jo at least, it still knocks his breath out slightly – on the chest.

Charlie and Cas return not too long after this, no news to report and having heard nothing from Gabe, Vic, and Meg. 

Meg and Gabriel don’t show up until almost an hour later, Meg looking smug, Gabriel looking deviously excited. Dean’s worried; he doesn’t like the look of this.

“Where’s Victor?” he asks once he sees no sign of the officer. The two don’t answer, sharing a look. 

Meg and Gabriel are conspiring together. This is Dean’s worst nightmare.

Meg gives a smirk that is just short of evil, toeing the line so much, that Dean might even have to call it full on evil.

“It’s time for Plan F.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Listen,” Dean says, “I don’t know about Plan F.” Meg shakes her head, giving him a falsely pitying look.

“Don’t you wanna save your brother, Dean-o?” she simpers, a smirk just barely playing at her lips. “This is the only way left. Think what could happen to him if you don’t.” She puts a hand on his right shoulder, leaning close. “And it would be all your fault.”

That hits right home with Dean, and he’s nodding before his brain even processes the action. She’s right; he has to do whatever he can to save Sam, even if it’s morally wrong. He has to look out for his little brother, it’s his job.

Cas puts his hand on Dean’s other should and gives Meg a glare. Dean can’t help but think of the whole angel on one shoulder and devil on the other thing in cartoons.

“Meg, this idea is dangerous. Dean.” Cas gives Dean a mournful look that has Dean’s heart melting, wanting to agree with what he says, if only to make the look go away. “You can’t do this. Sam wouldn’t want you to do this.” Dean’s nodding once again, but this time of his own accord. Cas is obviously right; Sam would never want Dean to sell his soul for him.

“Who cares what Sam wants,” Meg drawls in his ear. “Sam could be dead, Dean-o. What happens, then? He doesn’t get the happy life you always wanted for him because you were too scared to do what it took to save him?” She shakes her head, looking disappointed. “I’m sure he’d learn to be grateful when he’s back to his wife and having two-point-five kids.”

Shit, Meg has a point. Dean can’t let Sam’s life fall away because he was too chicken to man up and do what it took to save him. Dean is supposed to do everything he can for Sam, to watch out for him over himself. Sam and Dean have always been like two halves of one whole, except Sam is the intelligent, friendly, kind part, and Dean is the dumb, antisocial, asshole part. If anyone deserves to live, it’s Sam, without a doubt.

“You’re right,” Dean agrees, turning his back on Cas. “I have to do whatever it takes to save Sam. And if this is the only option… fine.” He moves to give Cas a glance over his shoulder, but turns back quickly, not wanting to see the look of disappointment there. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs to the ground instead.

If he’s doing this to be brave, why does he still feel so much like a coward?

Meg motions between Gabriel and Cas, and Gabriel makes a grab for his brother, who tries to shove him off indignantly, and somehow fails. Dean turns around to see that Gabriel actually cuffed Cas – knowing that Gabriel must have taken them off of Victor makes him wonder even more what happened to him – and drags him into the bathroom. A moment later, Gabriel comes out, locking the door behind him with the key in hand.

“Any other objections?” he asks, looking between Jo and Charlie. Charlie just looks wide-eyed, but Jo gives Gabriel an angry look.

“What good do you think is going to come from this?” she snaps, making a move to grab the key from Gabriel, but failing when he twirls away. “Summoning the goddamn devil is the stupidest thing anyone can do.”

Gabriel takes that as objection enough, and before she can even move away, he’s got her cuffed and dragging her to the bathroom. 

When he returns once again, he raises his eyebrows at Charlie, who just shakes her head, though her look is calculating. Gabriel doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m thinking I should probably swallow this,” Gabriel declares, and then he does. He swallows the goddamn key. What a fucking dumbass. 

Somehow he doesn’t choke and die—“I’ve had bigger things down my throat before,” is his explanation – and Dean feels bad for Cas and Jo who will not be getting out of that bathroom for a while. 

 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Gabriel exclaims, looking more excited than anyone should about – as Jo put it – summoning the goddamn devil.

Dean just feels dread in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t a good idea.

\--

Dean has to hold back a cringe when Meg and Gabriel start painting a pentagram onto the carpet. He supposes that it doesn’t really matter, though. The carpet was already burnt, after all.

Charlie makes sure the two of them are distracted – Gabriel is telling Meg that he’s happy that Cas is locked in the bathroom now, so Dean won’t be able to corrupt him, Meg is not caring – before she pulls did to the side.

“We can’t do this,” she whispers urgently. “You have to stop them.”

Dean’s shaking his head. It may not feel right, but he has to save Sam, he knows he does. And wasn’t Charlie the one who okayed this to be Plan F, anyways? Why does she want to back out now?

When he points this out, Charlie just shakes her head, looking frazzled. 

“I didn’t think it would come to this,” Charlie insists, now sounding frantic. She’s tugging on his arm, trying to make him listen, but Dean’s already decided he’s not going to. “I didn’t think you would go for it.”

Dean just shrugs and tugs his arm out of her grasp, turning away from her. He knows, deep down, that Charlie and Cas, and Jo, and probably Victor are right and that he needs to stop this before it even starts, but it feels like his moral compass has been crushed. The thought of Sam being in danger through the compass out the window and into a burning river of lava, never to be seen again.

“Is she giving you a problem?” Gabriel asks, getting up off the floor. He gives Charlie a grin, different from his usual trickster smile, this one in more malicious.

Dean looks between the two of them, knowing this is his last chance to back out. He could play it off, and he and Charlie could stop Meg and Gabe from doing this, and everything would be fine. Or, he could go against everyone’s wishes and do something dangerous and most likely self sacrificing in order to save Sam. The question practically answers itself.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, but this time, instead of looking away, he looks directly at her as he says it. It’s a direct denial of her help, a “fuck you” for trying to convince him to do the right thing, like there was any way she could make him change his mind at this point. He’s never seen her look so betrayed, not even when he revealed himself to be a traitor to the queen of Moondoor in an intense day of LARPing.

Gabriel doesn’t make a grab for Charlie, however, given that he already swallowed the key to the bathroom. Instead, he picks up her notebook, heads over to the balcony, opens the door, and flings it straight out into the rainy night.

Charlie gasps in horror, immediately bolting out the door to save her book. Gabriel locks the door behind her immediately so she can’t get back in, but Dean’s pretty sure he shouldn’t have bothered. Carrie Fisher signed that book; there’s no way Charlie would leave it out in the rain.

While he’s by the door, Gabriel turns out the lights, leaving the room to only be illuminated by the candles Meg had lit around the pentagram. Dean had to stop himself from moving them on the table to prevent a possible fire and moves towards it, carefully making sure not to knock them over. He looks at the smiling picture of Sam in the center – Meg had convinced Gabriel that it wouldn’t work if they used the picture of the moose on the corkboard – and tells himself that it’ll be worth it for him. This will all be worth it for Sammy.

Meg grabs Dean’s and Gabriel’s hands, and looks at Dean, jerking her chin towards Gabriel. He reluctantly takes Gabriel’s hand, wincing at how sticky it is. It’s like holding the hand of an overgrown toddler.

Meg motions for them to gather around, and Dean notices the book she has never to her. It’s huge, bigger than his 10th grade biology text book, and has words in Latin on the cover, with a blood red pentagram. Dean gets bad vibes just from looking at it; he definitely doesn’t want to know how it came to be in Meg’s possession and what she’s used it for in the past.

She opens the book to the bookmarked page and begins reading the Latin. Thunder booms outside so loudly, that the apartment practically shakes.

Yeah, so this was definitely not a good idea. That doesn’t mean that Dean won’t go through with it. In fact, he’s found that the worst ideas are usually the ones that work.

(This is not true, just look at all the plans they’ve come up with to find Sam so far. They were all awful and none of them worked. But Dean’s trying to comfort himself at the moment, so cut him some slack. Or don’t, he did get himself in this mess, after all.)

Meg continues chanting, and the room seems to become colder. Dean’s almost sure if he breathed out, he’d be able to see it. 

Next to him Gabriel is grinning like a lunatic, completely at ease summoning the literal devil himself. Meg is smirking, which is pretty much her default expression, but Dean can tell that she’s just as excited as Gabriel. 

Dean has probably just stepped into the world’s largest pile of shit.

Meg begins to chant louder, her voice practically a yell, the temperature dropping in degree with each word. Dean is so focused on Meg, on what she’s saying and her hair whipping around her face, despite the fact that they’re inside and the fan is off, that he doesn’t hear the sound of keys clanging outside, or the sound of the door opening.

He does, however, notice when the lights turn on.

Meg’s chanting cuts off abruptly, and Dean jerks around to see – 

_Sam_?

Sam looks completely baffled, and Dean can see his eyes darting first to the glitter coving a ton of the furniture, then to the burn marks on the couch and rug, then to the pentagram with his picture in the middle that Dean, Meg, and Gabriel are gathered around. He seems to be processing all of this, trying to figure out what to address first.

“What the _hel_ l is going on?” is what Sam finally blurts, sounding the perfect mix of outraged and confused.

“Sammy?” Dean asks, because that’s all his mind can make out right now. Sam is here, Sam’s alive. Dean hadn’t been sure he’d ever even see him again.

“Are you summoning a demon?” Sam yelps, horrified. Dean shrugs sheepishly, and Sam sighs loudly, spinning in an entire circle. The kid is so dramatic, honestly. Dean doesn’t know where he got it from.

“I was gone for two weeks, Dean, two weeks, and I come back and you’re summoning the fucking devil? What the hell?” Dean has never seen Sam so mad, which he finds rather unfair. Sam told him he’d be back last week, and he didn’t show, what was he supposed to think?

“You said you’d be back on Monday night, Sam!” Dean yells, getting up off the floor and knocking over one of the candles. He immediately steps on the tiny fire it causes to put it out. “It’s been a week since, then! I was worried!” Sam just blinks at him.

“Dean,” Sam starts slowly. “I said I’d be back on Monday night in two weeks. As in, tonight.” It’s Dean’s turn to blink in response, not knowing what to say to that. 

When Sam sees this, he continues in his bitchiest tone, “I can’t believe you thought I was missing and decided to call a demon to find me. Ever heard of the police?” Sam’s dog, which is nestled into the purse Sam has around his should, lets out a tiny bark, as if in agreement.

Dean doesn’t really have a defense to this, so he mutters pettily, “At least I don’t carry around my tiny dumbass dog in a purse like a goddamn woman.” Sam puts a hand over the dogs head, as if to shield it from Dean’s mean words.

“It’s a satchel, Dean,” Sam hisses. “And leave Yippers alone. He wouldn’t do something as idiotic as summon a demon because I haven’t been home for a week.”

Dean wrinkles his nose at the name. Only Sam would get the tiniest teacup yorkie in existence and name it Yippers. And, to top it all off, of course he has to carry it around in that stupid “satchel” instead of walking it on a leash like a normal person.

“I thought you were dead,” Dean defends. “Aren’t you glad I was trying to help you out?”

“By selling your soul?” Sam snaps. “That’s not going to help anybody. And did you ever think to call me?”

Dean almost takes a step back at that. Wow, in all his panic, in all his desperation, he never once thought to call his brother on the phone to just ask if he was okay. He got so worked up, he forgot to consider the easiest option: to just talk to Sam in the first place.

Of course, he’s not going to admit this fault of his. When Dean makes a mistake, he doesn’t own up to it, he just keeps defending it until everyone stops trying to tell him he was wrong. That is the Winchester way, after all.

When Dean is done contemplating his own stupidity, he notices that Sam is still ranting at him, now saying, “—thought I could trust Cas to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid like this, but I guess not. Where is he, anyway?”

Dean says, “Don’t blame Cas!” at the same time Gabriel answers, “I locked him in the bathroom because he tried to stop Dean. Jo’s in there, too.” He grins at Sam flirtatiously. “It’s good to have you back, lover.” He winks.

Sam ignores the second half of that completely, telling Gabriel to go let Jo and Cas out of the bathroom. Gabriel shrugs apologetically in response.

“Can’t. Not now at least. Maybe in two to three days?” Gabriel shrugs again, this time a lot less apologetic. At Sam’s confused look, Gabriel gives his stomach a pat. Sam looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and roll onto the floor.

“I can’t believe this. I’m gone fourteen days and Dean’s become a Satanist and Gabriel has turned into a cartoon character,” Sam mutters to himself. Louder, “What else did I miss? Did Bobby start baking the neighborhood kids cupcakes wearing a frilly, pink apron?”

Dean just rolls his eyes, but Meg takes the question seriously, that, or she just wants to fuck with Dean. 

Excuse Dean while he edits the previous statement.

Dean just rolls his eyes, but Meg wants to fuck with Dean, so she replies, “Sure did. Dean-o and Clarence had a good roll in the sack together.” She gives Dean a smirk from where she’s sitting on the floor, leaning back with her arms behind her. Dean has to stop himself from kicking her.

“They didn’t get to roll in the sack,” Gabriel corrects, giving both Meg and Dean a glare. This is ignored by everyone, though, so it’s almost as if it didn’t even happen.

“ _What_?” Sam exclaims, looking at Dean as if he’s grown three heads. “Since when have you had a thing for Cas?” 

Dean doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t have to, though, because Charlie comes charging into the apartment, soaking wet, yelling, “Dean, don’t!” 

She crashes into Sam, gives him a quick, “Oh, hi, Sam” and a grin before she’s grabbing Dean by the shoulders, shaking him, and yelling in his face about all the dangers of summoning a demon and to “look at the ones on Buffy, Dean! We don’t have Buffy! We’ll be doomed!” 

It seems to dawn on her then who she just ran in to, and she whips around, looking shocked.

“Sam?” she yells. “You’re alive?”

“Did you tell everyone I was dead?” Sam shouts at Dean, sounding exasperated.

“Yes,” Gabriel supplies happily. “There was also an unfortunate misprint that I had nothing to do with on some “have you seen this man” posters and all of Kansas City thinks you’re some sort of criminal and they’ll be rewarded ten thousand dollars for turning you in.”

Sam slowly turns his head towards Dean wearing the bitchiest look Dean has ever seen on him in Sam’s twenty-five years on Earth.

Dean thumps his forehead with the palm of his hand.

It’s going to be a long night.

\--

In the bathroom, Jo looks over to Cas, who’s glaring at the wall in front of him. They’re both handcuffed to the pipe that connects from the toilet to the wall, Jo in the narrow space between the toilet and the sink, and Cas in the even more narrow space between the toilet and the bathtub.

“So, how’s married life treating you?” she asks him, giving him a smile. He looks over to her, obviously confused.

“I’m not married,” he tells her sincerely. His eyes are wide as he looks at her, like he genuinely believes that she thinks he’s married.

Jo sighs and thumps her head against the wall.

It’s going to be a goddamn long night.

\--

Parked out on the street, Victor has both hands handcuffed to the steering wheel, preventing him from leaving the car or phoning for help. He’s completely stuck.

Victor honestly can’t believe that he let those two assholes get the jump on him, and he doesn’t want to think about how, the story to embarrassing to even recap to himself. 

He was hoping Charlie would help him out when she came running by like a maniac about five minutes ago, but she probably hadn’t seen him, given that the pouring rain made looking through the windows almost impossible.

He thumps his head on the steering wheel.

It’s going to be one goddamn hell of a long night.  
 


	8. Epilogue

A month, a fuck ton of apologies, and the realization that Cas had been on the Get Sam a Dog Task Force later, Dean has Cas trapped underneath him, both of them completely naked, their cocks rubbing together deliciously as they kiss passionately.

It had taken them a lot to finally get here, what with their friends being the biggest asshole cockblocks on the planet. And, if Dean thought Gabriel was the biggest one before, boy was he wrong, because Sam obviously doesn’t know how to knock or call before he comes over. That has caused several awkward situations that Dean would gladly bleach from his brain.

Another reason is that Cas had been pissed at him for a full week due to the whole letting him get locked in a bathroom for two days because none of them could figure out how to unscrew the knob from the door and trying to summon the devil to sell his soul thing. Dean doesn’t like to think about this reason much.

Dean breaks away from Cas to dig through his drawer for the bottle of lube he keeps there. He actually has bottles of lube stashed all over the apartment, not wanting to have to stop a possible chance for them to fuck by having to go find lube only to come back and have all his friends and family sitting on the couches – which were brand new – ruining their chance. He knows from experience. This actually happened once. 

Dean doesn’t much like to think about that experience, either.

So, he keeps lube in an accessible place in each room. In his and Cas’s rooms, the bedside table, in the kitchen, tucked behind the spices on the spice shelf, in the bathroom, in the medicine cabinet, in the main room, in a ceramic jar on the coffee table that looks like it’s only for show, but is actually a lube holder. He’s been ready for weeks.

He spreads a generous amount of lube over his fingers, bringing his hand down to carefully rub against Cas’s hole.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Dean murmurs against Cas’s lips, and Cas nods in response. 

 

Dean kisses him softly as he carefully pushes the first finger inside, hearing Cas give a shaky breath. 

“You okay?” Dean worries. He doesn’t want to hurt Cas, especially since this is his first time.

If Cas doesn’t enjoy this, there is a chance that Cas’ll never want to have sex again, and maybe this is an overreaction on Dean’s part, but he really wants to have a lot of sex with Cas, and he doesn’t want one bad time to ruin the whole thing.

Not that Dean wouldn’t stay with Cas, even if he didn’t want sex; it’s just that Dean thinks Cas is really hot, and not having sex with him would put a damper on the whole licking every part of Cas’s body that Dean has plans to do. 

Also, call him a sap, but he doesn’t just want to tell Cas how much he loves him, he wants to show him as well. Dean isn’t great with the telling, but he is at the showing, and fuck, he wants to show Cas how much he cares about him every way from Sunday for the rest of his life. 

Cas rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it hurt,” he says, sounding annoyed, but he’s smiling when Dean looks at him. He pulls Dean in for a kiss, and Dean begins to pump his finger in and out slowly, Cas beginning to moan against his lips.

Just as Dean is about to insert a second finger, his cell phone rings on the night table. Dean completely ignores it; he’s not going to let them get cockblocked this time.

He adds the second finger, loving the way Cas groans lowly, deep in his throat, when he does. He scissors his fingers, making sure to stretch Cas as well as he can.

The phone continues ringing, and honestly, it’s ruining the entire atmosphere of the situation. It’s hard to focus on the breathy moans Cas is making as he fingers him when there’s a cell phone blasting an annoying ass ringtone in his ear.

He pulls his fingers out, giving Cas a light kiss when the other man whimpers in response, leaning over to pick up the phone.

He doesn’t bother checking the caller ID before snapping, “What?” into the phone.

There’s a laugh on the other end. “I’m sorry, Dean, did I interrupt you and Cassie, again?” Dean has to resist chucking the phone out the window when he realizes that it’s actually Cas’s phone, and the caller is Cas’s asshole friend Balthazar.

Cas has the worst taste in friends. Meg may be sarcastic and even vicious at times, but Balthazar is smug and haughty and the worst person Dean’s ever met. 

(This is obviously an overstatement, but the guy has stopped Dean from getting laid almost ten times in one week, so he has the right to be pissed as hell.)

For some reason, Balthazar has made it his personal mission to call every single time Dean and Cas are about to finally get it on. The guy has some sort of sex-radar and seems to just know whenever something is about to go down. When Cas asked him about it, he just laughed and wouldn’t tell him why he was doing it.

For someone who always used to tell Cas that he needed to get laid, he sure doesn’t want to let it actually happen. 

Dean thinks that he’s probably in love with Cas, or at least has a huge ass crush on him, but Cas steadfastly disagrees. Though, considering the glares and subtle digs that Balthazar has been giving Dean since the two of them got together, Dean’s gonna have to say his theory is probably right on this one. It’s not like Cas has a good track record of picking up the signs of someone being in love with him in the past, anyway.

 

Dean hangs up the phone immediately, dropping it back on the night table. Before Cas can ask who it was, he just says, “Balthazar” and drops his head onto Cas’s shoulder.

A minute later, Cas fists his hand in Dean’s hair, pulling him up for a kiss, a kiss that clearly says that Cas is still raring to go. 

Dean grabs the lube again, afraid that the lube may have dried up or something while he was on the phone. He coats his fingers again, before carefully putting two fingers back inside of Cas.

He opens him up until Cas is moaning and panting again, begging Dean for more, and Dean grins, giving him a kiss and pushing in a third finger.

Once Dean is finally done stretching him, he pulls out, causing Cas to whine at the loss. He grabs the lube, and is just about to coat himself in it, throbbing at the idea of soon being in the tight heat, when there’s a loud banging coming from the front door.

Dean drops more curses than he’s proud of, grabbing his robe, putting it on, and heading to the door, where the banging has yet to let up. He can hear Cas behind him, putting on his own robe as well.

Dean wrenches open the door, probably looking ready for murder, surprised to see Gabriel, who has several suitcases in his hand and probably everything he owns behind him.

Gabriel takes in their appearances, looking between them with a relieved expression.

“Thank God, I came just in time,” Gabriel praises, dropping the two suitcases he was holding.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean snaps, not wanting to deal with this. He and Cas are going to have sex today and that’s it; he’s not going to let Gabriel stop them again.

 

“I’m moving in!” Gabriel announces with seven-watt grin. “I need to make sure that my little bro’s innocence is preserved, and the only way to do that is –”

Dean slams the door straight in Gabriel’s face because he has lost all his patience with interrupting brothers and friends, especially with Gabriel’s “keeping Cas’s innocence” crap. Throwing a Bible at them the last time he was over was bad, but this? This is the final straw. 

Dean scoops Cas up in his arms, the other man yelping in surprise, and heads back to the bedroom. He can hear Gabriel banging on the door and begging him to let him in, but he ignores it easily, dropping Cas back on the bed and crawling on top of him. He pulls Cas in for a slow kiss.

It’s finally Dean’s day.


End file.
